


Stranger Things: A Ghost Story

by Annielouwho1985



Series: Steve Harrington Medium [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Consensual Possession, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Growing Up, Inspired by Stranger Things (TV 2016), Paranormal, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:39:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 87,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annielouwho1985/pseuds/Annielouwho1985
Summary: Steve Harrington isn't sure what he wants to do with his life, but he knows it doesn't involve ice cream or video rentals. Maybe it involves his new job as a night watchman at Mooregrove Manor, a house museum in Hawkins, Indiana? Dustin says the house is lame, and Steve feels like his life is pretty lame right now. But Mooregrove Manor is home to a spirit, a spirit with a tragic tale, a spirit who yearns to be free. How will the ghost of Lillian Mooregrove take to the new guard? When their path's cross, they'll either save one another or self destruct together, destruct to a point where even Dustin and his crew may not be able to save his best friend.





	1. "The Lady of Shalott"

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for season three! I do not own the characters in this story. But I do love Stranger Things. I especially love Steve "the hair" Harrington and Dustin. Their friendship gives me life. I thought it'd be fun to write a ghost story for this universe.
> 
> Also, this fabulous poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson, the 1842 version, which helps set the theme for the story. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45360/the-lady-of-shalott-1842

Prologue

  
“The Lady of Shalott”

  
January 21, 1919

  
The young woman stood in the cold, night air. Everything was dark around her, and the rain, more ice than liquid. stung her skin. The thin nightgown offered little protection, but she barely felt the rain or the chilly wind that howled all around her. The fever burning through her body was making her sweat, and the rage coursing through her veins blinded her to almost everything around her.

  
In the distance, the lights of the city gleamed. They were relatively new, at least in her short lifetime. When she was little, they’d been a promise of the future, a promise of what her life could be. Now that she was older, they were the dying embers of what would never be. She would never walk the streets of downtown Hawkins. He would never take her hand on a crowded sidewalk or take her to see a show. He wasn’t coming for her. He didn’t even care. He’d left her here, alone with her captors, alone in this prison to rot. The lights of Hawkins were now cruel and mocking.

  
“I am half sick of shadows,” she whispered.

  
The wind howled again, and she shivered for the first time. Her footing slipped a little and she swayed atop her precipice. Her eyes finally looked down at the ground below. She could do it. She could jump and it’d all be over. She’d be free, free from her captors, free from this house. Her Sir Lancelot was no longer coming for her. What was the point of going on with no rescue in sight?

  
“LILLIAN!” a voice called out from behind her.

  
The girl turned to see one of her captors slowly picking his way across the roof to where she stood. She looked back at the ground, more determined than ever to jump. She’d get the last laugh. They’d no longer be able to keep her locked up, keep her contained only to dress her up and trot her out at parties like some dancing monkey. A piece of her life was finally her own. Here, now, was something she could control.

  
“Lillian, come back from there!”

  
The girl took a small step forward and the glass ceiling beneath her feet creaked. The Rose Room was far below her. She’d met him in that room. They’d danced, and it was the happiest she’d ever been. That’s where he promised they’d be together forever. That’s also where he’d told her he had to go to war, fight for his county, but he’d be back. And now the war was over, and what? He no longer wanted her. That’s what her captors had said, anyhow.

  
“No,” her mid suddenly fought. “No, you have to hear it from him.” Lillian staggered back from the edge of the roof, unsure of what to do. Did she stay, or did she jump? If she stayed, how would she escape to go see him?

  
“Lillian!” that infernal voice shouted again. Her captor was getting closer. The girl didn’t know what to do, but she knew she hated that voice, hated the person it belonged to. Lillian whirled around, the rage burning through her again, threatening to set her aflame from within.

  
She saw the face of her captor. Heard him shout, saw his hand reach out to grab her. Then there was a loud noise followed only by darkness.


	2. The Night Shift

Chapter One

The Night Shift

October 1, 1985

Steve Harrington sat in a booth at the Hawkins Diner. The faded, blue vinyl was slightly sticky. Everything in there was slightly sticky, but they served the best food, if you were into grease, that is. Since the Starcourt Mall had burned to the ground, downtown was seeing a revival, and most of the booths were occupied.

Steve checked his watch and looked at the door expectantly. Where were they? He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. The collar of his new shirt tugged at his neck, and he did his best to adjust it. The uniform was stiff. This was the first time he’d worn it, and he couldn’t say it was comfortable. At least it didn’t look like a sailor suit, though. Best of all, no stupid hat to block his best feature, his head of thick, brown hair. Not that he’d be able to attract many girls as night watchman at an old house museum, but it was a step up from shoveling out ice cream at the mall. It was also a step up from slinging videos at the local video store. “Stupid, Keith,” he murmured.

The waitress walked by again, giving him the eye. “They’ll be here,” he assured her.

“Uh huh.”

“They’re not standing me up,” he insisted. Steve Harrington did not get stood up. At least, the old Steve Harrington never got stood up. He wasn’t sure about the new Steve, whoever he was.

“You want a kid’s mat to pass the time,” the waitress remarked.

“No,” he scoffed, then reconsidered. “Maybe.”

At that moment, the door to the diner dinged and in walked Robin. She looked a little flustered, hefting a heavy backpack behind her. “See.” Steve pointed to the girl as she collapsed into the seat across from him.

“Uh huh,” the waitress drawled again. “I’ll 86 the kid’s mat, bring you some menus.”

“Kid’s mat?” Robin asked, struggling to get her backpack off her shoulder.

“Never mind her. Where have you been?”

“Sorry, class ran over.” Robin finally won the struggle with her backpack and shook it off. “Oh, finally, that thing weighs a ton.” She looked around the restaurant. “Where’s Dustin?”

Steve tossed his hands in the air. “Not here.”

The waitress brought over two menus and dropped them unceremoniously on the table. “We need a third one,” Steve spoke up.

The waitress eyed him. “Uh huh.” She didn’t move.

“We need a third one,” he reiterated.

She finally left to get the other menu. “What’d you do to her?” Robin asked.

“Why is this my fault?” Steve asked incredulously. It seemed like everything was always his fault.

The door dinged again and in blitzed Dustin in all his curly haired glory. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. I got caught up in homework at the library.” He flopped down in the booth beside Robin and struggled with his own backpack. Robin moved to help him out.

The waitress returned with the third menu and dropped it on top of the others. Steve pointed to Dustin. “See.”

“Are there anymore?” she asked, unimpressed.

“Nope, we’re all here.”

“Uh huh.” The waitress turned and walked off.

“Geez, Steve, what’d you do to her?” Dustin asked.

“I didn’t do anything!” Steve almost felt like pulling his hair out, almost. “You all were late.”

“Class,” Robin repeated.

“Homework,” Dustin added.

“The world doesn’t revolve around Steve Harrington,” Robin joked.

Steve knew this all too well, but he decided not to take the bait. This evening was about other things. “Never mind.” He waved the past away with his hand. He ceremoniously cleared his throat and stood, making sure his whole uniform was in view.

“Steve Harrington in uniform,” Robin crooned.

“Looking good,” Dustin added. They both applauded appreciatively as Steve did a little turn.

The waitress walked over with a tray of waters and a stern look. Steve plopped back down in the booth. She set the waters down forcefully in front of all of them. Robin opened her mouth, about to order, but the waitress walked off. The three of them looked at each other and laughed. Steve took a breath and realized how much he’d missed this, the three of them just hanging out.

Robin unwrapped her straw and stuck it in her drink. “You know, you wouldn’t have to wear a uniform if you’d stayed at the video store.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “With Keith, ugh, no thank you.”

“He’s bearable now that’s he got a girlfriend.”

“A girlfriend I helped him get, thank you very much,” Steve protested.

“Aw, is little Stevie jealous?” Robin reached over to pat his cheek and he jerked away. He tried not to smile, but he couldn’t help it.

“Yes, I am jealous. Keith has a girlfriend. Dustin has a girlfriend. You have a girlfriend.”

“Shh.” Robin tossed her straw wrapper at him.

“Don’t listen to her. I think the uniform is nice, very professional.”

“Thank you, Dustin. I look forward to my new career.”

“Do you get a gun?” Dustin leaned across the table, excited to hear the answer.

“I’m a guard, right?” Steve waggled his eyebrows.

Robin scoffed. “God, you’re going to shoot yourself.”

“Hey.” Steve was offended now. “I know how to handle a weapon.”

“Yeah, Steve is great with a bat,” Dustin defended.

“A bat with nails in it,” Steve added.

“Not a gun.” Robin pointed out. “You better take a class or something.”

“I’m sure they’ll train him. Right?”

“Yes, my training starts tonight.” Steve leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest in finality. The shirt was stiff, and it took him a second longer than he would have liked to achieve his pose. Robin smirked.

“You’ve got like an adult job.” Dustin sounded amazed.

“Yes,” Steve agreed. Wait, had that been a compliment?

“Uniform, a gun.” The boy took a moment to marvel in the change in his older friend. “Too bad you’re not guarding something cool, like a bank, or a jewelry store.”

Steve straightened up. “My job is cool.”

“You’re guarding Mooregrove Manor. It’s a really old house,” Robin countered.

“Full of antiques.”

“Full of old people,” Dustin added with emphasis. “Seriously, the only people who go there are super old, like my grandma.”

“Or kids forced to go there on a field trip.”

“Ugh, fourth grade.” Dustin shivered at the memory.

“You’d think the founding family of modern Hawkins would have been more interesting.” Robin looked around, trying to find their waitress. “I’m hungry.”

Steve chewed on his bottom lip for a moment and then leaned in. “A murder took place there, you know?”

“Maybe a murder,” Robin amended.

“Could have been a suicide,” Dustin mused.

“No one really knows what happened to Lillian,” Robin concluded.

“Who’s Lillian?”

Robin stared at Steve. “Do you know nothing about your place of employment? Lillian Mooregrove, their daughter, the Mooregrove’s only biological heir. She was super sick, so people rarely saw her, like ever, and then she turns up dead in the middle of their house.”

“Fell through a glass ceiling on the roof.” Dustin demonstrated the fall with his hand, smacking the table.

“What was she doing up there in the first place, that’s the question, but the family never talked about it. They don’t even talk about it on the tours.”

“Hush money from the family,” Dustin whispered conspiratorially.

“Maybe.” Robin shrugged. “Family did name a wing of the library after her, since all she could do was sit in her room and read.”

“The library has wings?”

“Dude, her picture is hanging in the lobby,” Dustin pointed out.

“Why would I know that?” Steve asked.

“You all gonna order or sit there all day?” Their waitress was suddenly at their side, staring down at them expectantly. Dustin screeched and Steve jumped.

“Please tell me your gun has a safety,” Robin muttered, watching Steve as he tried to play off his sudden movement.

The three of them ordered and the conversation fortunately changed focus after that. Robin was busy with community college, her art, and the occasional shift at the video store. Dustin was busy with high school. Steve still couldn’t believe the kid was a freshman. He was also still involved with his girlfriend Suzy in Utah. His gang of friends didn’t get together as much as they used to, a part of which may have been the Byers and El’s move out of town, but they were still there for one another.

Steve took a bite of his burger, trying not to get any ketchup or residual grease on his uniform. “Mmh, best thing about this job, it’s just me at night, so I can call you on the radio.”

Dustin perked up over his corn beef sandwich. “Cool.” He took another bite. “Oh, but Tuesdays and Wednesdays aren’t good, because that’s when I talk to Suzy.”

“Okay.”

“And I have a lot of homework on Monday nights, usually a pop quiz on Friday,” the boy continued through another mouthful.

Steve set his hamburger down. “So, don’t radio you, is what you’re saying?”

“No, I’m just busy. I’ve got a lot of homework, and if I don’t talk to Suzy, she gets mad. You know how girls are.”

“Hey.” Robin smacked his shoulder.

“I’m in trigonometry, and it’s a lot,” Dustin sighed.

“Dude, you’re a freshman. Why are you taking trig?” Steve shook his head and shoved a fry in his mouth.

“Because I have plans for my life,” Dustin defended. “I want to be something.”

Steve’s heart dropped into his stomach and landed with a painful splash. He pushed his plate away and tossed his napkin on top. He couldn’t meet Dustin’s eyes. He couldn’t meet either of their eyes.

“No, Steve, I didn’t mean you,” Dustin hurried to add. “I mean, you’ve got a job, like a real job.”

Robin put her hand gently on Dustin’s shoulder, stopping him before he could dig his hole any deeper. “Steve . . .”

Steve nodded. No, it was fair. It was a fair assessment. “No, it’s good. You’ve got college and Dustin has all the brains in the world. And Steve . . .” He didn’t know how to finish that, so he didn’t.

Steve stood up and pulled his wallet out. He tossed some money down on the table. “Steve, come on,” Robin protested.

“Steve, I didn’t mean it.”

“Dinner’s on me. I’m off to work. I’ll catch up with you all later.” And with that. Steve walked away from the table and his friends and out the door.

It was the first time Steve Harrington had been early to work, ever, but he felt like he had something to prove. Larry, the new day watchman and former night watchman, was not impressed. “You sign your name here to check in and out.” Larry pointed with something less than enthusiasm at a dirty clipboard hanging in the little, back room that was reserved for employees. It had probably been a pantry at one point. “Remember to put your walkie in its charging station when you check out. The walkie is only to contact the police, not for personal business of any kind. If you want to listen to a radio, bring your own.” He picked up a cracked binder and offered it to Steve. “Perimeter and room check every two hours. Mark the sheet as you go. Book lives on the third shelf.”

Larry held out a set of keys to the new guard. “These are the keys to all the doors. I’ll show you around.”

Steve shifted his feet expectantly. “Isn’t there something else I get?”

“Like what?”

He couldn’t believe he had to explain this. “Like a, you know, gun?”

Larry showed the most emotion he had all night. “What, no? After the tour you will be granted your official whistle and nightstick.”

“Whistle and nightstick?” Steve was utterly disheartened. He had a much cooler bat in his trunk.

“Come on, rookie.” Larry brushed past him and took off down the hall. “Bring the book and a pencil.” Steve sighed and followed.

Mooregrove Manor was room upon room of old stuff, old stuff tucked behind ropes with signs that read “Do Not Touch.” Every room on the first two stories was set up like the house hadn’t aged a day since the early 1900s. Dustin had been right. This was profoundly lame. Larry showed him all the locks to check, all the windows. He took Steve to the third floor where all the doors to the rooms were closed, but not locked. “Third floor is storage and some offices. These rooms stay closed. Open the door and look inside once every two hours, use your flashlight if need be. You will also be issued a flashlight,” Larry droned on. Steve wanted to cry.

They made their way back downstairs to the first floor. The largest room on that level was the Rose Room, so named because of its color. The late evening light shone through from above and danced across the carpet. Steve looked up. There was the glass ceiling Dustin had talked about. Steve stopped. “Is this where she died?”

Larry sighed. “Yes, that is where the body of Lillian Mooregrove was found in 1919. But no, the house is not haunted.”

“Are you sure?”

Larry had never been surer of anything in his life. “Do you know why this house has a night watchman?”

“To watch the stuff at night?”

“Because stupid kids used to break in here and try to have seances, tried to talk to the ghost of Lillian Mooregrove. But no one’s attempted to break in since 1962. Do you know why?”

“You’re really good at your job.”

Larry visibly swallowed. “I am not that old.” He swallowed again. “Because there is no ghost, that’s why! No one here but us and the spiders, so get used to it. I’d bring a book if I were you. You in college or something? This job is a great place for homework.”

Steve intentionally ignored his comment. “Still, kinda weird they rebuilt the window she fell through.”

“Rich people are always weird.” Larry adjusted his belt and headed on. “Come on, we’ll do the outside.”

After the outside tour, Larry officially gave Steve all the accoutrements of his job, from the flashlight to the whistle. It was all his now. “Disaster manual. Operations manual. Read it, front to back.” He pointed to the beaten-up office chair, indicating that Steve should sit. “Employee bathroom is the one in the back. Bring a cooler if you need food, but don’t leave a mess. I’d have to clean it up in the morning, and I won’t. You’ll stay and clean it up. Got it, kid?”

“Yes,” Steve sighed.

“See you in the morning.” Larry removed his jacket from a hook in the small room. “Don’t expect too much, and you won’t be let down. I’ll lock the front door on my way out but remember to do your checks.” And with that, Larry was gone, and the house was Steve’s.

Steve moved the chair from side to side as much as it would go. He sighed again and opened the operations manual. “History of Mooregrove Manor,” he read. The font as so small, and it was the first of . . . 112 pages?! Steve hung his head back in despair. When he looked up, his eyes caught the walkie talkie. He flipped it on. Static filled the room, and he considered calling Dustin. The conversation in the diner came back, and Steve quickly switched the walkie off.

He needed to move, to do something. Although it was early, Steve collected all his items and headed out on his first house check. It went much faster on his own. All too soon he was on the third floor, opening the doors and looking in. Office, office, storage, closet, and bedroom. Bedroom? Steve opened the last door again and stepped inside. Here was another preserved room, but it didn’t have any ropes or instructive signs. It was just a room, ready for anybody to come and sleep in it. “Weird,” he muttered. The room was suddenly very cold, and he shivered. This room had a draft. Maybe that’s why it wasn’t a part of the tour? Steve quickly closed the door and headed back downstairs.

He stopped in the Rose Room again and looked up at the ceiling. The sun had finally set, and the house was so quiet, so still. Steve felt a deep sadness, and he’d like to say it came out of nowhere, but he knew exactly where it came from. In the morning he’d go home to his big house and be all alone. His parents were off on another trip. Then tomorrow evening he’d get to come here to this big, empty house. Perhaps he should be grateful for the peace and quiet? There were no Demogorgons or Mind Flayers to fight, no Russian codes to break, no evil scientists, no kids to protect. No Dustin.

Steve cleared his throat, trying to swallow the emotion he felt building up inside. The house really was empty, just like Larry had said it was. It was the fullest, emptiest house he’d ever been in, save his own. “No wonder you jumped,” he muttered to the ceiling. “If you jumped.” He thought about his own empty house again, Harrington Manor. “Master bath and toaster,” he decided with a smirk. That’s how he’d do it.

His checklist completed for another two hours; Steve returned to the employee pantry. He sat down and stared at the Operations Manual. “History of Mooregrove Manor,” he read again. He continued to read this time. The house was still around him, save for the bedroom door on the third floor which quietly slid open.


	3. Trust Fund Blues

Chapter 2

Trust Fund Blues

October 2, 1985

Steve weathered his first night well, considering he slept through most of it. At some point between pages 12 and 13 in the Operations Manual, he’d fallen asleep on the binder. He’d only meant to close his eyes for a moment, but the damp pages from his drool trail told a different story. He’d woken up with ninety minutes left in his shift, and a terrible pain in his neck, so he blitzed through the house, triple checking everything. Fortunately, everything was fine. The only thing out of place was the bedroom door on the third floor. It was cracked. He must not have shut it properly at the start of his shift.

Larry was back in the employee pantry when he returned. “I see you survived your first night.”

“Uh, yeah, it was thrilling.”

“Get used to it.”

Steve deposited the binder and signed out. He started to leave but turned back. “What did you do, Larry, to pass the time?”

“I speak four languages. Hello, hola, hallo, kon’nichiwa. I am a master of the crossword puzzle, and I can now construct a ship in a bottle. You find things to do, or you go insane.” Larry picked up the binder from where Steve had just set it. “Off to morning rounds.”

“I just checked everything.”

“Yep, and you also left drool stains on the Operations Manual.” Larry gestured to the open book on the table. “Find a hobby, kid, or another job.”

Steve rubbed his neck with embarrassment and stepped back to let Larry pass. He was off to a great start. It’d be nice to keep a job, for more than a few months. With a sigh, he made his way to the employee entrance near the old kitchen. A noise from the kitchen made him stop. His hand instinctively reached for his nightstick, which was of course back in its appropriate drawer in the employee pantry.

“Oh, hello, dear!” The bubbly voice belonged to a short, older lady dressed in the reddest, most velour dress Steve had ever seen. He was glad he hadn’t screamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m not startled.”

Her smile brightened. “You must be the new night guard.”

“Yeah, Steve.” He held out his hand for a shake and she took it, holding it between her own, weathered hands.

“Oh, aren’t you a charmer? And a good-looking young man. I’m sure you have a sweetheart back home waiting for you.” Steve chose to laugh that comment off. “My name is Bernice. I’ve been a guide here since the museum opened in 1951.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Would you like a tour?”

Steve hesitated for a moment but taking a tour with Bernice had to be better than reading that manual. “Yes, I would love a tour.”

Bernice clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, good. I do love educating the youth. This way, young man.” She bustled off to the front of the house and Steve followed.

The tour wasn’t much better than reading the manual, but at least he was on his feet, and Steve had learned a few things. The Mooregroves had been early movers and shakers in the steel boom of the late 1800s. They had interest in towns throughout the Midwest, but they favored Hawkins. Their home was the largest house in Hawkins still to that day, although the former Mayor’s house came close. Their home was also the first in town to be completely electrified, and they’d helped bring electricity to all of Hawkins. The Mooregroves had plans to transform Hawkins into a center for industry, but their plans changed in 1919. That year they moved to Missouri but maintained their home in town. They turned the home over to the town in the late 1940s, and the house opened as a museum in 1951.

Steve had also learned that the home had five different design styles, over 5,000 books, twenty different patterns of china, and that President McKinley had once sat at the desk in the study. In addition, he now knew there had been a President McKinley. Steve shifted from side to side as Bernice went on about the carpet in the Rose Room. How much longer could this tour possibly go? Surely it would be over before he was as old as his guide.

Larry entered the room, binder in hand and a stern look on his face. “Hey, Harrington, next time close the door on the third floor.”

“The bedroom door?”

“Yeah, the bedroom door. If you mark it as closed on the sheet, it should be closed,” Larry groused before walking away.

“I closed that door,” Steve mumbled.

“Oh, Lillian’s bedroom,” Bernice spoke up.

“Lillian Mooregrove? Do you know anything about her?” Steve was interested now.

Bernice shook her head. “We’re really not supposed to say much, but I can tell you she was the daughter of Quincy and Wysteria Mooregrove. She was their only child, until they adopted the two boys in Missouri, Pete and Sam. Lillian was a beautiful girl, angelic. She was sickly as a child, though, suffered from rheumatic fever. She had a weak constitution, poor dear, and spent most of her time in the house. She’s buried in the city’s cemetery, which the Mooregroves helped officially establish, by the way.”

Steve stepped closer, keeping his voice kind of low. “But she died in the house, right? Maybe in this room, under that window?” He pointed up.

Bernice wrung her hands and looked away for a moment. “I really can’t say.”

“Oh, come on, Bernice.” Steve put on his charm. He ran his hand through his hair and smiled. He might not be able to work his magic on any ladies his age right now, but he could still get some benefit from it.

The magic worked and Bernie caved. “All right, but you didn’t hear it from me. Yes, Lillian fell through that window. She was sick, not in her right mind. Poor Mr. Mooregrove chased her up on the roof, but he couldn’t get to her in time.”

“Do you think she jumped and broke the window?”

Bernice looked stricken, like Steve had dealt her an actual blow. “Oh, goodness, no. Why would she want to do that?”

Steve shrugged. “I heard some things.”

“Well, you heard wrong,” she reprimanded sternly. “It was a tragic accident, and the family never recovered from it.”

“They just left her bedroom up there?” Steve looked at the stairs and shuddered a little, creeped out for the first time since he’d entered the house.

“Grief is a funny thing. We all handle it differently. That was one of the stipulations of the museum, Lillian’s room remained unchanged.”

“But it’s not on the tour?”

“Goodness no, that room is terribly drafty. May be why the poor dear stayed so sick.” Bernice looked around the room. “Now, where was I? Did I mention the silverware already?”

Steve glanced over at the front door. He could just bolt and leave. “Uh . . .” During his hesitation, the front door opened and in walked an older man. “Thank goodness,” Steve thought. “Here’s a new sucker to take my place.”

Bernice recognized the gentleman. She looked a little flustered. “That’s Mr. Shaefer. He’s on the board. If you tell him what I told you, I will have you fired before you cross the threshold.” Her voice was scary intense.

“What?” Steve backed away a little.

“I mean it.” Bernice gave him another threatening look before turning to greet the older man. “Mr. Shaefer, what brings you here so early?”

“Bernice, good to see you.” He took her warmly by the hand. “I came to grab the quarterly report.” He looked up at Steve. “I didn’t know you had a guest.”

“Mr. Shaefer, this is our new night watchman.”

Steve stepped forward and extended his hand. “Steve Harrington.”

Mr. Shaefer took his hand and gave it a firm shake. His eyes lit up with recognition. “Harrington?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Phil Harrington’s boy?”

This wasn’t uncommon. Most people in authority knew Steve’s dad in some way or another. “Yes.”

“Good to see you’ve started. Happy to have you on board.” Mr. Shaefer gave his hand another shake before letting go. “Your dad said we could count on you.” He looked back at Bernice. “I’m off upstairs. Good to see you, Bernice.”

“You, too, Mr. Shafer.” The two stood in silence as the older man climbed the stairs. Bernice turned her attention back to Steve who was silently fighting an internal war. “Harrington? I knew that name sounded familiar. Your father is such a good trustee of the museum. He helped us acquire some of these antiques. I’ll point them out to you.”

Steve stayed to listen, but he didn’t really hear anything over the roaring of his own blood in his ears. His car ride home was unusually tense, and it took him several minutes before he could bring himself to get out and go inside his house. There in the foyer was that stupid painting of the three of them they’d had done five years ago. It felt like five years since they’d all been in the same room together. As soon as he could drive, Steve felt like he’d been pretty much on his own.

He should have known; he should have known when his mother brought him the ad from the paper that it’d been a set up. He hadn’t gotten this job on his own merit. Nope, his dad got it for him, embarrassed that his son was working in a video rental store. Steve hadn’t gotten into any colleges. He had refused to go and work for his father, insisting he could manage his life on his own. But his attempts at working weren’t good enough.

Steve seethed at the portrait, fighting the urge to rip it off the wall and stomp it on the floor. This wasn’t the fist time he’d fought that urge, and it wouldn’t be the last. Instead, he turned and stormed to his room, removing his uniform as he went. He tossed the pieces on the floor, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed into his bed. The ceiling fan stared down at him, and for one second he wished it was a glass ceiling instead. His house was just as quiet as Mooregrove Manor. “You, Harrington, are a loser. You suck. Grade A poser.” He took a breath and turned over to go to sleep. There was nothing else worth doing. “You are inexcusably lame.”


	4. Everybody’s Working for the . . .Something

Chapter Three

Everybody’s Working for the . . .Something

October 3-18, 1985

Steve wasn’t exactly thrilled to return to Mooregrove Manor the following evening, but it was his job. Even if his father had secured it for him, he was going to do it to the best of his abilities. He’d save up some money, and maybe he’d be able to get his own place, finally get out from under his father’s thumb. But if he was going to do the job, he was going to need to stay awake through his shift. 

Hobby, Larry said he needed a hobby. What did people do for a hobby? Collect stamps? Coins? Dustin built giant, all powerful radio towers. Upon further reflection, Steve’s most recent hobby had been fighting monsters from alternate universes. That didn’t really translate to his current situation. So, Steve raided his parents’ bookcase, filled a duffle, and went to work.

Larry spoke four languages. Steve took every foreign language book he could find in his house. If Larry had had enough time to master different tongues, he could, too. But that was easier thought than done. Halfway through the night, Steve tossed his Mandarin dictionary across the employee pantry. “I barely speak English.” The Russian dictionary caught his eye, and he thought of Robin, wondered if she’d kept up with the language or not? He could probably call her and ask her, if there weren’t a policy against personal calls. Nope, Steve Harrington was going to do this the right way.

Plan two involved borrowing every business book he could find in his parents’ house. He could learn the language of business, get some insight into the working world. But business books turned out to be the second-best thing to nap on, right behind the Operations Manual.

What had Steve read in school, back when he was expected to?

Plan three involved him digging out all his old comic books and bringing them with him. That was great, but it only killed a few days. He knew he could radio Dustin, ask to borrow some of his, but he was still sore about the diner. Also, the kid hadn’t bothered to radio him, and Steve was not going to radio him first. So, nah.

Plan four took Steve to his mother’s craft closet. There was bound to be something in there to pass the time. A 500-piece jigsaw puzzle took up the floor and almost the whole night, until he discovered piece 499 was missing, and he had a mini meltdown. 

The make your own macramé owl kit seemed promising from the box, but it was one giant knot inside. It was probably for the best; Steve wasn’t a very crafty person anyhow.

Plan six was the best one he’d had yet, and Steve couldn’t understand why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. He brought his Walkman to the Manor and tested which hallway was best when it came to recreating Tom Cruise’s iconic slide from Risky Business. He kept his clothes on, of course. He was still at work, after all.

“Should you be doing this at work?” a small part of him wondered as he slid into the kitchen in his sock feet. Probably not, but it wasn’t like he was hurting anything. He still checked the house every two hours, and nothing ever changed, except the door on the third floor. Stupid thing only closed half the time. He should probably leave a note for maintenance about it, or at the very least Larry.

After his first paycheck, Steve went to the store and bought the necessities of life, milk, bread, turkey for sandwiches, batteries for his Walkman, hair spray and gel. There was a new type of hair gel he was excited to try, so he made that the plan for the night. 

Steve ran his hands through his hair, seeing if the new product lived up to the hype. The employee bathroom was dimly lit. Maybe he should have tried this at home? He backed away from the small mirror and turned his head from side to side. He didn’t see much of a difference in his hair, but he did see a difference in him.

Steve straightened his collar and squared his shoulders. He kind of looked like someone who had actual authority, like a skinnier, better looking Jim Hopper. A sad smile crossed his face. He missed the cantankerous cop. Hawkins wasn’t the same after Hopper had sacrificed himself to save the world and close the gate to the Upside Down. 

“You talkin’ to me?” He asked his reflection, channeling his best Robert DeNiro. He ran his hands through his hair again. “Well, I’m the only one here.” Steve pulled his nightstick out of his belt loop quickly, pretending it was a gun. The end caught on his belt and clattered to the floor. He sighed and bent down to pick it up. When he stood back up, his wasn’t the only reflection in the mirror.

It wasn’t a person, but it was something. Steve yelped and stumbled back, dropping the nightstick for a second time. He blinked and it, whatever it was, was gone. He was staring at his own shocked reflection. Had there even been anything else there at all? Maybe it had been a trick of the light?

“Get it together, Harrington,” he spoke as he put his hand to his chest. Steve quickly grabbed his stuff and returned to the employee pantry. For the second time since starting his job, he was creeped out to be alone in the house.

By his second week of employment, Steve had had enough of the temperamental door on the third floor. Larry didn’t have an issue with it, and maintenance said there wasn’t anything wrong with it. But it was an issue, a constant thorn in Steve’s side, so he had resolved to fix it himself. That’s why he was sitting on the third floor, a random assortment of tools scattered around him and a fix it all book on his lap. The book was almost new, which made sense considering it came from his house and his parents never fixed anything themselves. It had probably been a gag gift. 

Steve looked up door repair in the index and turned to the appropriate section. He read a little and then looked at his tools. He wished he had paid more attention in shop class. “Okay,” he muttered and picked up his screwdriver. He sat up on his knees and grabbed the handle, but just as he touched it, the open door flew out of his hands and closed with a bang. Steve jerked back, but his hand reached forward and pulled on the handle out of instinct. The door did not open. He pulled harder, and still nothing. It was stuck somehow.

“Oh, come on!” He pulled over and over, jiggling the handle left and right. Steve yanked hard on the door and it suddenly opened with ease. His momentum sent him stumbling back. The door was open before him, like nothing amiss had happened.

Steve cautiously got to his feet and stepped inside the room. Fortunately, the light turned on. If it hadn’t, he was out of there. “It’s an old house,” he reminded himself. “It’s just an old house.”

This was the first time he’d walked past the threshold, and he moved through the space slowly. Everything in the room was some shade of red or pink. It reminded him of the coloring in the Rose Room. The four-poster bed was huge, and it was obvious someone still washed the bedding and dusted. This may have been Lillian’s room once, but there was very little left out on the furniture to speak of the girl who had once called it home.

Steve was about to walk out when a thud in the back of the room caught his attention. He automatically pulled out his nightstick and whirled around. There was another thud. The noise seemed to be coming from behind another door against the far wall. Steve inched forward slowly, nightstick at the ready. When he reached the door, he swallowed the lump in his throat. It was probably a mouse, maybe a Demogorgon. Either way, he was going in swinging.

Steve flung the door open and, nothing. It was just a closet, or was it? Steve flipped the light on inside the second room and his breath caught in his throat. This was a closet full of books, and it was massive and long. A rolling ladder set in the middle of the room. Steve walked forward and tested it, to see if it was the culprit of the noise, but its wheels were locked in place, rusted over from neglect. Beside the ladder there was a small pile of books. They must have fallen off the shelves and made the noise. Steve bent down to pick them up and noticed they were all the same. “The Complete Poetical Works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson: Poet Laureate,” he read. The books may have had the same title, but they were all worn in different ways. One looked almost new, while the second was slightly worn, and the third was almost falling apart. Steve opened the newest looking one. “For my dearest Lillian. Love, your Lancelot” was written on the inside cover.

Steve looked around with recognition. This was Lillian Mooregrove’s personal library. Robin had said all she could do was sit in her room and read. Steve carefully placed two of the books back on the shelf, but the third one lingered in his hands. He ran his fingers over the faded cover. He could tell someone had read this book many times. Without thinking about it, he opened the book. It fell open easily to a poem that was dog eared on every possible corner. “The Lady of Shalott.”

The margins around the poem were filled with doodles and little notes. Steve smiled. It reminded him of his notes from school. He could almost see the hand that had drawn them.

“On either side the river lie  
Long fields of barley and of rye,  
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;  
And thro' the field the road runs by  
To many-tower'd Camelot;  
And up and down the people go,  
Gazing where the lilies blow  
Round an island there below,  
The island of Shalott.”

Steve folded his legs and sat. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt like the right thing to do. He should get up, put the book away, and continue his rounds. Steve Harrington didn’t sit around reading poetry. But at that moment, there was nothing else he’d rather do. He sat there on the floor and read the poem and then the entire book straight through. The room didn’t seem that chilly anymore.

After that, Steve added a new routine to his night, he’d go to the third floor, get the book, and read it at least once. He probably shouldn’t be handling it so much. He probably shouldn’t even be in that room, but inspecting the place was a part of his job, so it’s not like any room could really be off limits to him. There were other books he could read, but he was drawn to the small, battered volume. Every day he learned something new from it, something new about the girl who once owned it. The scribblings in the margins were as much a part of the book as the poems were. He knew that Lillian had beautiful handwriting. She was funny, many of the scribbles were jokes. She was insightful, musing on life and death, and she really wanted to be in love. She also felt trapped, trapped in her life, trapped in her house. Did the world have a place for her, a place of her own?

He wondered what items, if any, people would look to, to catch glimpses of his person after he died? He made a mental note to throw away the very used magazine tucked beneath his mattress.

Steve was sure he had read some of these poems in high school, but it hadn’t been like this. He’d probably slept through them in class or made someone explain them to him. But here and now every word went straight to his heart, and he was sad every time when he came to the end of the poem and the Lady of Shalott succumbed to her terrible curse and died. 

The last evening before his first weekend off, Steve was walking through the house, honestly a little sad he wouldn’t be able to read the book for two days. He had the book now, though, and he read through it as he walked the now familiar hallway of the first floor. His Walkman provided background music as he walked and read, but soon the music started to slow down and eventually stopped. Crap, batteries. He had forgot to replace them. Steve cursed under his breath and went back to the employee pantry. He searched through the drawers, but no dice. He hadn’t really expected there to be any. 

Suddenly, there was the soft sound of music drifting down the hall. That was weird. Steve stepped out and listened. All he heard now was silence. “Hello?” Who was he talking to?

With slight trepidation, he walked down the hall in the direction of where the sound had come from. His feet led him to the Rose Room, but everything was quiet. What had made that noise? Had his brain made it up? The old Victrola caught his eye, and he remembered Bernice had been playing it when he’d checked in, demonstrating it for some enthusiasts. 

“Guess it still had a charge or something,” he tried to explain to himself. He moved closer to inspect the machine. The record was still in it from earlier. Steve reached out and turned the crank handle. He was an employee. He could do this, right? 

He turned the handle over several times and sweet music from years gone by filled the air. Once it was playing well on its own, Steve stepped back. A smile crossed his face and he bowed to the air. “May I have this dance?” The air must have accepted, and he twirled it around the room. He wished he remembered more from the cotillion lessons his parents had made him take. A few steps in, and he was stumbling over his own feet.

Instead of getting frustrated, Steve laughed at himself. “Nancy always said I had two left feet.” She’d been right.

Steve took a breath and listened to the music fill the space. The book was still in his hand. He rarely put it down when he was in the house. With an overwhelming sense of peace, Steve sat on the floor and lay back. The stars shone down at him through the glass ceiling. He turned to look beside him, half expecting to see someone, but of course there was no one there. He looked back at the ceiling, and for the first time in a while, he felt completely at home in his own skin.


	5. Shadows

Chapter Four

October 19, 1895

Shadows

“There’s the working man,” Robin quipped as Steve stepped out of his car. He hadn’t expected to see her sitting on his front steps, but there she was.

“What are you doing here?”

She stood up, pulling her backpack with her. “I was supposed to have a Saturday workshop, but the teacher has “hives,” which really means he’s hungover, so I came here. And now we’re leaving, so you can buy me coffee.”

“What?”

“You’re driving me to the Hawkins Diner.” She sounded so sure as she approached the car.

Steve had to protest. “You do know I sleep during the day, right? Like, I just got off a ten hour shift.”

“Yep.” Robin opened the door and deposited herself in the passenger’s seat.

Steve surrendered and got back into the car. “How did you get here?”

“Took the bus to the closest stop and walked,” she answered matter of fact.

“The bus runs downtown. You know, this, right?”

Robin shook her head. “No, I wanted to come here.”

Steve sighed and started the car. “Right, because you enjoy torturing me.”

“You missed me.”

Steve couldn’t hide his smile. He had.

Robin took a long drink of her coffee. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff, you can cut it with a knife.”

Steve grimaced and took a bite of his pancakes. “Gross.”

“I’m surprised you don’t drink this stuff. How do you stay awake all night in that dull house?”

Steve was a little offended by that, and he didn’t know why. “I have plenty of things to do, thank you.”

Robin held her hands up. “Okay.”

“I listen to music. I construct puzzles.”

“What?”

Steve laughed at how ridiculous it sounded. “I test hair products.”

Robin cackled in the booth across from him. “Of course. Oh, Steve, never change.”

But Steve knew he was changing. He could feel it, but he couldn’t describe it yet. “I read,” he added after a moment of hesitation.

“Like comic books?”

He smiled. “Just two nights.” Robin snorted and took another drink of her coffee. “I’m reading poetry.”

Robin almost choked on her coffee. “Poetry?”

“Yeah, and I like it. Some good stuff, Alfred Lord Tennyson.”

“Aw, my Stevie is growing up.” She reached out and touched his arm.

“Yeah, well, I have time at work. Lots of hours.” He shrugged and took another bite of his pancakes.

“Good for you, Steve, good for you.” The two of them fell into a companionable silence.

“Learn any interesting facts about Mooregrove Manor?” she asked after another minute.

Steve swallowed his bite. “We had a President McKinley. Did you know that?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s not the President now, by the way.”

“I know that, thanks.” Steve rolled his eyes. “And I’ve learned that Lillian Mooregrove had beautiful handwriting.”

Robin looked shocked. “Hold up, they talked about Lillian Moorgrove?”

Steve moved his fork awkwardly around his syrup filled plate. “No, but I’ve been in her room.”

“You’ve been in her room?! I never saw that on the tour.”

“It’s not included on the tour. It’s upstairs, kind of like a time capsule.”

Robin shivered. “Oh, man, that’s creepy.”

“No, it’s not. It’s nice, it’s a nice room.” Steve sounded defensive.

“They never changed it at all?”

“Lillian liked it the way it was, except when she felt trapped. Don’t we all?” Steve popped his last bite of pancake into his mouth.

Robin leaned forward. “How do you know all this?”

“I found her library. She wrote in the margins of her books, well one book,” he struggled to explain.

“Are you supposed to touch that stuff?”

“It’s not part of the museum. There aren’t any ropes. I’m careful,” Steve protested.

Robin wasn’t convinced, but she let it go. “What else have you learned?” she asked over her coffee.

Steve smiled, but it was different from his cocky smile or the smile he used when he was kidding around with Robin and Dustin. “She’s funny, Lillian, and she’s smart, like profound.”

“Profound?” Robin had never heard her friend use that word before. She watched him rub the back of his neck nervously and look out the window. That odd smile was still on his face, and it suddenly dawned on her. “Holy shit, you’re in love with her.”

“What?!”

“You’re in love with a ghost.”

“I am not! Shut up.”

Robin laughed long and hard as Steve scowled down at the table. “I’m not in love with a ghost,” he insisted. “It’s just – it’s not fair, like, she got erased. No one saw her.”  
Robin stopped laughing and considered her friend. “Okay, that’s fair.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “It’s beautiful, really, that you see that.”

Steve nodded and decided to move the conversation on. “What’s going on in your world?”

“Ugh, class, art projects, midterms. Keith and his girlfriend making out in the backroom of the video store.”

“Gross.”

“Way gross. Grody to the max. I may be celibate for life.”

They both laughed. “Oh!” Robin suddenly remembered and sat up from her slouch. She pointed at Steve. “Party, tonight, at my house. Kiki will be there.”

“Kiki?”

Robin gave him a knowing and pointed look. Steve caught on. “That Kiki.”

“I’d really like you to meet her, and there will be other people there, available girls.”

“Oh,” Steve voiced with interest, but then he was suddenly very tired.

“It’s people from my program, but you’ll like them” It was like Robin could sense his shift in energy. “We found an old fondue set. You know you wanna come.”

Steve smiled and ran his hand through his hair. “Okay, but you gotta let me get some sleep.”

“Yes, we’ll go home now.” She downed the rest of her coffee as Steve paid the bill.

“And if the evening gets dull, you can always recite some poetry,” Robin joked as they got back into the car.

“Har har. You’re hilarious.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not used to second edition Steve yet.”

Steve put his sunglasses on and looked at her. “There’s only one Steve, and he’s always limited edition.”

Robin rolled her eyes so hard they almost fell out of her head.

******************************************************************************

Steve had been having a nice dream, but he wasn’t anymore. “This is a code red. I repeat, this is a code red.” He set up groggily, trying to determine where he was, who he was. “Steve, are you there? This is a code red, pick up.” The words finally seeped through his groggy brain and he stumbled out of bed, tripping on the blanket.

Steve crashed into his desk and fumbled with the radio Dustin had built for him. “Dustin, what’s wrong?! Is it a Demodog?!”

“Dude, where have you been? I’ve been hailing you for 15 minutes.”

“I was asleep. What’s going on?!”

“Mike just heard from El, and she says she’s getting her powers back.”

Steve sank into the chair by his desk, his heart no longer in his throat. “That’s what you called me about? Dustin, that’s not a code red.”

“Is too.”

“No, that’s like a code green or something.”

“Code green?”

Steve was so tired. “Did you want something, Dustin?”

“Yeah, we’re all getting together at Mike’s this evening. El’s gonna radio in. She wants to go to the between space, see if she can find Hopper.”

Steve fought back the urge to tell the kid Hopper was long gone. What was it Bernice had said, “grief is a funny thing?”

“Like the Upside Down?” he asked.

“No, like her between space, between worlds.”

“Who’s gonna be there?”

“Mike, Lucas, Max, and El and Will are radioing in.”

Steve sighed. “So, all the kids? What about Nancy?”

Dustin scoffed. “Nancy’s busy, but you have to come.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Please.” Dustin always sounded so pitiful when he begged.

Steve rolled his eyes and hung his head back. “I said I’ll think about it.”

“Mike’s at 8:00. See you there. Over and out.”

Dustin signed off and Steve dragged himself back to bed. He looked at the clock. It was already 5:30, and he had two engagements tonight. So much for a day off.

*****************************************************************************

Steve occasionally got a few nights off thanks to Sid, the old, emphasis on old night guard. He had thought Bernice was old, she had nothing on Sid. Steve didn’t see what the hunched over, much older man could defend. Good thing the house didn’t really need defending.

“Steve, this is Sid. Sid, this is the kid,” Larry introduced them. The older man acknowledged him with a wave of his hand, almost like he was trying to shoo him away.

“You hire ‘em too young, Larry.”

“Kid’s all right, when he manages to close all the doors.” Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes. He certainly wasn’t going to tell them about his time on the third floor. “Sid here is an institution,” Larry explained.

“I guarded the house before the town owned it. Still work two nights every week, ‘cept when my bursitis acts up. They tell you retirement is a blessing, but it’s a lie. Gotta get out of the house, or I’ll kill her.” Sid seemed to hunch over even more, if that was possible.

Steve looked from Sid to Larry and vowed that he would not end up like either one of them.

*********************************************************************************************

But since Sid’s bursitis wasn’t acting up, Steve was a free man on a Saturday night, except a bunch of 14-year olds were awaiting his arrival. That was a weird thought. Steve pulled up across the street from the Wheeler residence. He used to park here for a much different reason. A sense of nostalgia washed over him as he walked to the spot he used to climb to sneak in through Nancy’s window. Her light was off. Dustin had said she had plans.

Steve could probably ring the doorbell. There was no big secret they were hiding this time. Airing on the side of caution was always best, though, especially with this group. Steve knelt to knock on the basement window. He could see through the curtain, and the gang was all there. Mike sat in the middle of their circle, a massive walkie talkie in his hand. It was not a total shock that Eleven’s abilities were coming back. Steve had figured they would at some point.

He watched as the group of friends laughed and joked around with one another. The air didn’t seem too heavy, which was good. He reached out to knock on the window, but something stayed his hand. The more he watched, the less he saw himself in that room. There was no threat of danger. What was his role here? What was his place?

Steve tried to knock again, but the foreign feeling grew stronger. He homed in on Dustin, and the kid seemed perfectly fine. He was having a great evening with his friends. Steve swallowed the lump in his throat and made his way back quickly to his car. Maybe he’d go see Robin first and then check back on the kids?

Steve drove a few blocks over and parked across another street. There were more cars here, fewer bikes. A group was gathered on Robin’s front lawn, and more people were inside the house. Steve stepped out of his car, but he was well hidden in the shadows. He didn’t recognize anyone on the lawn. Usually that wouldn’t matter, but tonight it was making him very self-conscience.

Robin stepped out of the house, all smiles. Another girl was right behind her, lightly holding Robin’s hand. That must be Kiki. Steve perked up at seeing Robin, and he was about to cross the street, but again something made him stay. He watched Robin with her friends, friends she’d made at school. This was a whole part of her world he knew nothing about. Who was he to interrupt their fun, their inside jokes?

No, Steve didn’t seem himself there, either.

“I am half sick of shadows,” he whispered.

Feeling strangely empty and unsettled, Steve drove home. He didn’t stop back to check on the kids. They were good. Everyone was good, but him. As he opened his door, the phone was ringing. The weird feeling faded a little, and he smiled. This was probably Robin, calling to check on him. Dustin didn’t use the telephone to reach him.

“I know. I’m late,” he answered.

“Harrington?”

That wasn’t Robin’s voice. “Hello?”

“This is Larry from work. Sid had to go home, wife fell in the kitchen, tripped on the cat or something.”

“Oh, man.”

“He locked up, but we still need someone there. I figured you’d be out, it being Saturday night and all.”

“No, I’m home.”

“Good. Can you go in?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in his voice.

“Great. I’ll take tomorrow night if Sid can’t make it. Thanks, kid.”

One uniform change later, Steve was in his car off to Mooregrove Manor. The foreign feeling had completely left him, and it was almost as if he were driving home, instead of driving away from home. He felt excitement as he unlocked the employee door and entered the old house. He checked in as quick as he could and then made a beeline up the stairs to the third floor. The door was already open, almost like someone had been expecting him.

The book was there, waiting for him. Steve took it tenderly in his hands and caressed the cover. He held the book close to his chest as he left the closet library. Usually he took the book downstairs and found a new nook to read it in, but this night his feet kept him in the room. He looked over at the large, pink drapes along the outside wall. Without thinking too much about it, Steve walked over and pulled the curtains aside. They were hiding a large, picture window. “Wow,” he breathed. In front of the window was a cozy window seat. It was dark now, but Steve was pretty sure you could see for miles through that window.

“I bet you loved this view, Lillian,” he spoke to the house.

Steve settled himself in the window seat and opened the book. He was at ease.


	6. Scare Tactics

Chapter Five

October 25-30, 1985

Scare Tactics

“Please,” Dustin begged. Steve didn’t know how he got himself into these conversations.

“No,” he replied, trying not to meet the other boy’s pleading eyes.

“You owe me.” Dustin tried a new tactic.

“For what?!”

“You stood us up last week. I said it was a code red.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to get angry. “I told you, I got called into work.” Half true. “You said nothing happened anyhow.”

“I said Eleven’s vision or whatever it is was fuzzy. I didn’t say she saw nothing. You’d know if you’d been there,” Dustin huffed.

“It’s a no, Dustin, and that’s final.”

The boy looked stricken and Steve had to look away. “But I got this through the mail and everything.” Dustin set his book bag down and pulled out an oddly colored box. Steve took it from him.

“Madame Z’s Séance in a Box.” He laughed. “This makes it an even bigger no.”

“It cost me two allowances,” Dustin protested. “I had to get my mom to order it. She asked a million questions.”

“She was right to.” Steve examined the box before returning it. He recognized the lady on the back from somewhere. “Wait, is this the lady with the local ads?”

“Yeah, she moved to Hawkins after all the activity we’ve had.” Dustin fought with his backpack as he attempted to shove the box back in.

“You know that “activity” has nothing to do with ghosts. You know that firsthand,” Steve emphasized.

Dustin almost growled in frustration and set his bag aside for a moment. “I know, Steve. I know there are no such things as ghosts, but it’s our first Halloween without trick or treating, and it’s our first Halloween without Will.” He hunched over, defeated, and tried again to get the box back into the bag. “I wanted to get something fun we could all do together.”

Steve felt a pang in his heart. Dustin was trying so hard to keep his group of friends together, but Steve knew all too well life didn’t always work like that. How did he explain that to Dustin without crushing his spirit, though? He couldn’t. Steve felt himself crumbling. “Damn your weak resolve, Harrington,” he cursed to himself. Yes, one of the main rules was no seances at work, that’s literally why his job position had been created, but Steve knew the truth. He knew short of burning the place down, they weren’t going to fire him. For better or worse, he was Phil Harrington’s boy. Also, who were they going to get to work nights, Sid?

“Fine,” he mumbled.

“What?” Dustin perked up.

“I said fine,” Steve repeated tersely. “But you tell no one, NO ONE.”

“Of course not. I’m not a moron.” Dustin had finally gotten the box back into the bag, and he clutched his backpack to his chest in excitement. Steve had to fight the urge to smile. He had to remember he was the adult here.

“You’re in by 8:00, out by 9:00.”

“Yes.”

“And only your group, whatever you’re calling yourselves these days. Nobody else.”

“Just us four, I promise.” Dustin held up his hand as a solemn vow.

“And no food.”

“No food. Just the chicken for the sacrifice.” Steve looked up and Dustin smiled wide. “Kidding.”

“I’m serious, Dustin. I could get fired for this.”

Dustin nodded, to be sure Steve knew he appreciated the seriousness of the situation. “You won’t even know we’re there.” Steve laughed at that major lie. “And it’s not like anything’s gonna happen anyhow. Mooregrove Manor is monumentally lame, but it will be fun.” Dustin shouldered his backpack. “See you later, Steve. Thanks again.”

The boy headed off down the street and Steve watched after him. He was a little offended by that last comment. Mooregrove Manor was not lame, and he was tired of people referring to it as such. A smile started to spread across his lips as he remembered he knew the ins and outs of that place. What would happen if he were to, say, hide some well-placed scary booby traps? Then Dustin would have to change his tune, wouldn’t he?

Later that week at work, Steve casually measured the hall closet and made some notes on the loose pages in his hand. He was excited for Halloween for the first time in a long time. “Not big enough,” he spoke to the closet after evaluating his notes. He closed the door and checked the room off his list. On to the next. He still had a lot of things to do to get ready for the big show.

Steve studied his master plan further as he walked down the hallway. Did he have enough fishing line? He probably needed to get more. He wasn’t watching where he was going, but his feet knew the layout of the house so well. But he hadn’t been expecting someone to step out of the parlor, and he certainly hadn’t expected that someone to be Nancy Wheeler.

“Oh, sorry.” Steve looked up. “Nancy?”

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

“I work here.”

“That’s right. Mike told me that. Sorry.”

“What are you doing here?”

Nancy flashed her badge from the Hawkins Post. “Just getting the scoop.”

“On what?”

“Bernice, it’s her 80th birthday on Monday.”

“Hard hitting news,” Steve attempted to joke.

Nancy rolled her eyes. “It’s a start.”

“Thank you again, dear, for the interview.” Bernice came between them and rested her hand on Nancy’s shoulder. “I’m going to be a celebrity,” she told Steve.

“I heard, Bernice.”

The older woman looked at the two of them. “You all are such fine, young people. You should call on this young lady sometime.” She looked pointedly at Steve.

Nancy swallowed awkwardly and Steve looked away. “I have a boyfriend. He lives out of town,” Nancy attempted to explain.

“Oh, well, that’s nice.” Bernice patted Nancy’s shoulder and shuffled off down the hall towards the front door. “Have a good night, you two.”

“Night, Bernice,” Steve called after her.

“Thank you again.”

Silence followed in Bernice’s exit, awkward, awkward silence. “Do you like it here?” Nancy asked after a moment.

“It’s all right,” Steve replied, but he wanted to say more. “How’s the Post?”

“Better, now that half the staff turned over.”

“More like turned into monsters.”

“I mean, I’m sorry it happened. I’m sorry they lost their lives, and . . .”Nancy struggled to explain without sounding careless. 

Steve saved her from herself. He used to have to do that all the time. “Nance, I get it.” She nodded, and the awkward silence returned. “How’s Byers?”

  
“He’s good.” She took a breath; not sure she should say more. Steve knew she would. “We both applied to Harvard. I doubt we’ll get in, but it’s worth a shot, right?”

  
“Totally.” Steve leaned against the wall. “You’ll get in for sure. You’re the smartest person I know, besides Dustin.”

  
Nancy blushed at the compliment and bit her bottom lip. God, Steve used to melt for that look. She glanced down and noticed a piece of paper on the floor. Steve must have dropped it when they’d bumped into each other. “I think this is yours.” She bent down and picked it up. “Shit Your Pants Scary Plan” was written across the top of the page.

  
“You, uh, didn’t see that.” Steve took the paper from her quickly.

  
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with where Mike is going on Halloween, would it?”

  
“No,” he lied, terribly.

  
“Uh huh.” Nancy shook her head. “Same old Steve.”

  
“Same old Nancy,” he retorted, but they both knew that wasn’t true, for either of them.

  
“What are you reading?” She pointed to the book in his hands. It was the newest copy of the Tennyson book, the one without all the notes. Steve had traded the volumes out a day ago, after some of the pages had fallen out of the worn one and he’d had a small panic attack. This one didn’t feel the same, in any way, but it was an acceptable substitute. He’d love to know who the so-called Lancelot was who’d given this to Lillian. Sometimes he wished it’d been him, and there was a weird thought that he was not going to analyze.

  
Nancy read the spine. “You’re reading Tennyson? You’re reading poetry?”

  
“Something to pass the time.” Steve sounded defensive.

  
“No, it’s great.”

  
“It’s shocking. King Steve reading poetry.”

  
“Hey, come on. You remember that poem you wrote in American Lit?”

  
“I wrote a poem?”

  
“Yes.” Nancy pushed his shoulder out of mild frustration. “Out the Kitchen Window, the poem about your neighbor? Miss Spitz wanted to publish it in the school paper, but you made a big deal about it, didn’t want it published.”

  
It was coming back to him now. The teacher had asked them to write a poem that captured a slice of everyday life. He’d written his poem about watching his mom outside their kitchen window, about how sad she’d looked working in her flower garden. But of course, he’d lied, said it was about his neighbor.

  
“Guess I did write a poem.”

  
“It was a lovely poem. It’s what made me say yes when you asked me out,” Nancy confessed.

  
Steve winced. “Sorry I didn’t live up to it.”

  
Nancy shook her head and gently touched his cheek. It was purely platonic, and Steve no longer felt a throb in his chest when she was this close. They’d come a long way. “No, you did,” she assured him.

  
There was a loud crash from down the hall and they both jumped. “What was that?” she asked.

  
The two of them moved to the next room, the Rose Room. One of the small paintings hanging on the wall had fallen to the floor. “Oh my gosh, that scared me,” Nancy admitted. Steve walked over to the painting and picked it up. It was a scene from that poem, “The Lady of Shallot.”

  
“Hey, I know this painting. It’s the poem, the poem in my book.”

  
Nancy walked over to him and looked at the print. “The Lady of Shalott. It’s a sad poem.”

  
“Yeah.” Steve hung the painting, almost with reverence, back in its spot.

  
Nancy shivered and wrapped her arms around her chest. “How do you stay warm here?”

  
“What?”

  
“It’s so cold.”

  
Steve hadn’t really noticed, but this room did seem a little icier than usual. “I’ve got an article to write. Good night, Steve.”

  
“Night, Nance.”

  
She stopped in the doorway and looked back. “And try not to get the boys in trouble on Halloween.”

  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  
She rolled her eyes, smiled, and left the room. Steve followed her out and locked the door behind her. A part of him was very glad to have the house to himself again. Oddly enough, the temperature was better here near the front door. Steve didn’t think on that too long. After all, there was a plan in motion, and All Hallow’s Eve was at hand.


	7. All Hallow's Eve

Chapter Six

October 31, 1985

All Hallow’s Eve 

“Nice costume,” Steve remarked as Dustin and his gang snuck in through the employee entrance.

Dustin was lugging a very large duffle bag. Steve didn’t like that. He could only imagine what all was shoved inside. “Thanks,” the boy huffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I thought we were going as characters from Back to the Future.” He shot a heated look at the rag tag group behind him.

“I thought we decided not to dress up,” Mike defended.

“Why else would I buy this wig, Mike?!” Dustin pointed to the crazy, mad scientist wig atop his head.

“I don’t know how you spend your money.”

“I’m a Doc without a Marty. You let me down.”

“You’ll live,” Mike retorted.

This was already a bad idea, but Steve was committed now. He closed the door behind Max who was dressed like the Bride of Frankenstein and Lucas who was sporting a Hulkamania shirt. “What are you two supposed to be?” Steve asked.

“We were supposed to be the Bride of Frankenstein and Frankenstein’s Monster,” Max explained, clearly annoyed.

“I thought you were going as Elvira,” Lucas protested.

Max looked affronted. “I don’t have the boobs for that.”

“I think your boobs are nice,” Lucas leaned in and whispered not so quietly.

“Ew,” Dustin gagged.

“Gross,” Mike echoed.

“There are too many hormones in here.” Steve ushered them through the kitchen and into the hallway.

“We were supposed to be a couples’ costume,” Max directed at Lucas as they walked down the hall.

“We broke up after that conversation,” Lucas countered. “I thought that made the couples’ costume null and void.”

“Guess we’re not a couple tonight,” Max retorted.

“Guys,” Dustin pleaded, “please, it’s Halloween.”

This seemed to settle them, oddly enough, at least for the most part. “I did wear a costume,” Lucas whispered at Max as they entered the Rose Room.

“A shirt you wear every day is not a costume,” she fired back.

“I don’t wear this every day.”

“Yes you do,” Dustin and Mike chimed in.

“Children!” Steve called their attention to him.

“Like you’re an adult,” Mike commented under his breath, but Steve chose to ignore it.

“I’m sure Dustin explained the rules to you?” He stared them all down.

“This house smells,” Max remarked, scrunching up her nose.

“You smell,” Steve fired back. “You all smell. And if you tell anyone about this, ANYONE, I will murder you in your sleep.”

“Wait, is this the room where she died?” Mike wandered off and looked up at the glass ceiling.

“No way.” Lucas joined him and they stared up together.

“You guys are idiots,” Max pointed out, but they ignored her.

“We’ll conduct our séance right where the body of Lillian Mooregrove was discovered,” Dustin spoke up, “makes for the best energies.” The boy dragged his duffle into the room and looked around the carpet. “And that spot is . . .” He looked at Steve expectantly.

Steve pointed a little to the left. Wrong. A part of his mind was telling him it was closer to the piano on the right, but he still pointed to the left. He didn’t want to send them to the actual spot for some reason.

Dustin’s eyes lit up as he dragged the bag to the spot and set it down. He looked back at Steve. “Do you have the, you know?”

Steve sighed and pulled a lace doily out of his back pocket. He passed it to Dustin. “Get a new hobby?” Mike asked him, and he flipped the kid off. 

“And this is connected to Lillian, right?” Dustin turned the doily over, like he was checking it for authenticity.

“She knitted it herself,” Steve lied. He had no idea who’d made that doily. He’d found it in a drawer. He wasn’t really going to give Dustin something that belonged to Lillian. 

“Do you knit doilies?” Max questioned.

Dustin seemed pleased enough with the item. “Let’s get the stuff out,” he instructed the others.

Max, Lucas, and Mike bent down, somewhat begrudgingly, and began to empty the bag. Steve motioned for Dustin to step aside with him. “Is she okay with this?” he asked the boy.

“Max?” Dustin whispered back.

It’d just occurred to Steve that the girl had watched her stepbrother die earlier this year. Was a séance, as stupid and pointless as it was, really the best thing for her? And man, that was a grown-up thought. Damn, maybe he was an adult after all.

“Oh yeah, she’s cool,” Dustin assured. He hurried back over to the group.

Steve stood back and watched as they pulled out the séance box, a Zippo lighter, four lantern shaped pieces of glass, random, and candles. “No,” Steve spoke up. “Absolutely not. No fire, Dustin.”

“Dude, chill, I’ve got this covered.” Dustin pulled four saucers out of the bag. He set a candle on a saucer and placed one of the lantern globes over it. “See.”

Steve grumbled and left the room. He collected every fire extinguisher he could find and brought them into the room. He pointedly set one by each kid. “If this place catches on fire, you burn up with it,” he told them.

“Someone’s got a stick up his ass,” Mike remarked, and Steve wanted to pick him up and shake him.

“We won’t burn the place down,” Dustin emphasized.

Lucas was examining the séance box. “This is lame. We should’ve stayed at Mike’s, watched some movies, slammed down some junk food.”

“We’ll do that later,” Dustin assured. “They gave us the day off from school tomorrow. We have all night.”

“We’re here, we’re doing this,” Max enforced, and they listened.

Dustin looked up at Steve. It was very much a get out of here older, lame person who’s cramping our style look. That hurt. “Channel 9, remember?” Steve help up his walkie talkie and Dustin held up his own in response. “Do NOT burn this place down. I’ll be on my rounds. See you dweebs later.”

Steve turned on his walkie talkie. He could hear them conversing through it as he left the room. They thought he was a lame adult, just like their parents. He smiled as he thought about the surprises he had in store for them. “We’ll see who’s lame,” he whispered as he climbed the steps. There were a few final touches upstairs, and then operation Shit Your Pants was a go.

Dustin opened the séance box and pulled out a sizeable instruction manual. He had dog eared the necessary pages. “Okay, we need to get in a circle.” The others did as instructed. “And make sure you have a candle . . .and fire extinguisher.”

“Dude, what is this?” Lucas pulled a strand of teeth out of the box. “Are these teeth? Is that a chicken’s foot?”

“That’s for other things,” Dustin brushed off. 

“Ooh, Ouija board.” Mike pulled the small, folded board out.

“Are we summoning a chicken?” Lucas joked.

“Yeah, let’s summon a chicken,” Mike added. “I could really go for some chicken right now.”

“No, it’d shit everywhere, and Steve would blow his top,” Lucas pointed out.

“I’d pay to see that.”

“What next?” Max asked Dustin, purposefully ignoring the other two. 

Dustin skipped ahead a few pages. He placed the doily in the middle of their circle. “This goes in the middle and . . .” He looked over at the wall for the light switch. “Ah ha.” Dustin jumped up and ran over to turn off the lights.

“Dude,” Lucas protested. He dropped the teeth and foot back in the box. Mike followed suit and returned the Ouija board. 

Max flipped open the Zippo and lit her candle. She passed the lighter to Lucas with an instructive look. Dustin was very glad Max was with them. At first, he’d resented the girl, but she was oftentimes a big hand with the others. Dustin returned to the circle and attempted to read the book by candlelight. How did people do this back in the day?

“Are you really hungry?” Lucas whispered to Mike as they waited.

“Yeah.”

“I have some candy.” He pulled two candy bars out of his jacket pocket and passed one to Mike.

“Bitchin’.”

“I got you, bro.” Lucas started to open the second candy bar, but stopped and offered it to Max.

“Dustin said no food.”

“It’s Halloween,” Lucas argued. He offered it to her again, and she shook her head. 

Dustin had finally managed to read the passage he was struggling with. “Okay, we need to sit in the silence for a moment, let the spirit know we’re here.” Dustin set the book aside and closed his eyes.

It was silent for a moment, but then Lucas and Mike started to unwrap their candy bars. “Shh,” Max whispered.

“Sorry,” Lucas mouthed. They tried to open their candy as slowly as possible, but the crinkling and eventual crunching was unmistakable in the silence. 

“Guys,” Max started, but Dustin stopped her.

“It’s fine. The spirit’s gotta know we’re here by now. We’ll skip ahead.” He picked up the book again. 

Max eyed Lucas with something close to disdain as he ate his candy bar. “What?”

“We’ve got to get some other girls in this group,” she commented.

“All right, everybody take hands.” Dustin set the book out in front of him, as close to his candle as possible. He held out his hands. Max took one. Mike and Lucas shoved the rest of their candy bars into their mouths and joined the circle.

Dustin took a breath and began. “We call to the spirit of Lillian Mooregrove who died in this very spot 66 years ago.”

“The sign of the Beast,” Lucas whispered. Mike snorted.

“That’s 666, moron,” Max remarked.

Dustin pressed on. “We reach out to you, Lillian, across time, across death. Are you here with us?”

“Yes,” Mike chirped in a high-pitched voice, and Lucas laughed.

“You guys are assholes,” Max told them.

“Your negative energies will block this whole thing,” Dustin pointed out. He picked up the book. “There’s a whole chapter in here on that.”

Lucas and Mike laughed even harder, but Dustin was not kidding around. “You two, put your hands in the air now.”

“What?”

“Put your hands in the air.” Dustin held his arms up. “You have to shake out the negative energy, or this isn’t going to work.”

“Dude, it’s not gonna work anyhow,” Mike pointed out.

“Yeah, there’s nothing here but dust and old furniture.”

“SHAKE IT OUT!” Dustin shouted.

Max raised up her arms. “You heard him, shake it out!”

The other two did as instructed and raised up their arms. They started shaking, which of course led to them all laughing, and the mood in the room instantly shifted. Suddenly they were all on the same page and the heaviness had lifted.

Steve could hear them laughing through the walkie talkie from his place in the bedroom on the third floor. He was putting the finishing touches on the booby trap in the empty wardrobe. He’d also booby trapped the bed, and there were a few more downstairs. He’d thought about putting something in the closet library, but that felt wrong, like a violation of Lillian’s private world. 

He was glad to hear the kids laughing. He’d been fighting the urge to go down and tell them to be nicer to Dustin, tell them they were all being real shitheads. Steve couldn’t do that, though. He had to let Dustin fight his own battles, especially when those battles involved his good friends. “There.” Steve leaned back and plucked the fishing wire, made sure it was good and taught. He slowly closed the wardrobe’s door, being careful not to spring his own trap.

The kids were back to their séance, Lucas and Mike finally willing to give it a serious try. “Lillian Mooregrove, we call to you across time, across death,” Dustin repeated. “If you are here with us now, give us a sign.”

Steve collected his walkie talkie from the floor. He was going to go back down and wait. When the kids were finished, he was going to lead them on a mad goose chase through the house, from one trap to another. It was going to be awesome. “Lillian, give us a sign,” Dustin implored again. 

The lights in the bedroom began to flicker, slow at first and then frantically, just like they had at the Byers’ house back when . . . “Shit!” Steve exclaimed. It made no sense, but nothing about the Upside Down made sense. He’d let the kids get together and hold a séance on Halloween, what had he been thinking? And now he was going to have to deal with it. Why was his bat so far away?

Steve ran for the door in the room, but it slammed shut in his face. He reached out and pulled on the door as hard as he could, but it held fast. The lights kept blinking around him as he beat on the door. “Dustin! Dustin!” 

“Lillian, we have an item from your past, we hold it here in the circle. We use it as a bridge to reach out to you.” Dustin didn’t sound alarmed, but they probably had their eyes closed, or something dumb like that. 

Steve remembered the walkie talkie and spoke into it. “Dustin, stop! Stop!” He could hear the kids, but it was like they couldn’t hear him. “Chanel 9, Dustin!” No response. He went back to banging on the door.

“Take this item, Lillian. Connect with us here and now.” In the room below, Dustin peeked through an eye at the center of the circle. “Someone touch the doily, see if it’s hot.”

“What?” Lucas asked.

“If it’s hot, it means the summon is working.”

“How can we touch it, you told us to hold hands,” Mike pointed out.

“Ugh, never mind. I don’t want to break the circle,” Dustin decided. “Lillian, take this item and cross over,” he repeated.

Something was burning in the back of Steve’s pants. With a yelp, he pulled out the newer copy of Tennyson’s poems. A part of him didn’t even remember picking up the book that evening, but it was like sense memory by now. The book burned his hand, almost like it was on fire, and he tossed it onto the floor. 

“Lillian, through the energy of our circle, we invite you into our realm.”

Steve was searching around the room for anything he could use to fight off the Demogorgon he was sure would pop up at any moment. He couldn’t stop and think about the book. He couldn’t think about anything except surviving and getting back to the kids. Suddenly, the room was very cold around him. He could see his breath and a fine sheen of ice spread across the windows behind the open curtain. This was very different for the Upside Down.

“Lillian, the door is there before you,” Dustin’s staticky voice spoke through the walkie talkie. “If you can see the door, give us a sign.”

A sharp knock came from the closet door. Steve’s breath came out in short bursts of air. Maybe this wasn’t the Upside Down at all?

“We open the door for you.” Below in the Rose Room, the kids followed Dustin’s lead. They reached their hands out, as if reaching for an invisible doorknob. Above them, as if pulled by a rope, Steve walked to the closet door. He took the cold knob in his hand. Below, Dustin nodded, and the kids opened their invisible doors. Steve opened the closet door, and the rest was silence.

“What now?” Lucas asked after a moment.

“Lillian, are you here with us?” Dustin asked, his voice hopeful. Nothing.

“I don’t think she’s home,” Mike quipped.

“She gone,” Lucas agreed.

Dustin sighed. He had known, really, that nothing was going to happen, but it was still kind of disappointing. “I had fun at my first séance,” Max assured him.

“Movies?” Mike asked.

“And junk food!” Lucas added.

“I gotta tell Steve we’re out.” Dustin picked up the walkie talkie. “Blow out those candles. Hey, Steve, we’re heading out.” Radio static. “Steve?”

Several minutes later, the four of them were heading up the stairs. They hadn’t seen Steve come down, so it made sense he’d still be up there. “How many rooms does this place have?” Lucas commented.

“There’s an open door.” Max pointed to the bedroom door and Dustin hurried ahead.

“Thanks for making me climb all those stairs, butthead.” Dustin’s complaint died in his throat as the bedroom came into view. Steve was in the middle of it, but he wasn’t moving. He was just standing there, his back to them. Something was off. Why was he standing like that?

“Steve?” Dustin moved into the room and in front of his friend. His chest clenched and his throat felt tight. Steve was just staring off into space, at nothing. The older boy was barely breathing. “Steve?” Dustin shook his arm, but there was no response. Dustin waved his hands in front of his face, but he didn’t even blink. “Steve?!”

Mike walked over. “What’s wrong with him?”

Max took one look at his face and backed away. “No, no,” she mumbled.

Dustin took Steve by the shoulders and shook harder. “Steve, stop it! It’s not funny!” That’s when he noticed how cold his friend was. “Shit, he’s cold.”

“What?” Mike reached out and poked Steve’s arm.

“Get some blankets or something!” Dustin cried out.

“What?” Mike repeated. He wasn’t sure that would help anything.

“Get some blankets!” Dustin repeated, and the other boys sprang into action. Lucas went for the wardrobe and Mike went for the bed. As soon as the wardrobe opened, a plastic skeleton sprang out. Lucas screamed and fell to the floor, plastic skeleton still attached. At the same time, Mike pulled back the blanket on the bed and a ghostly form floated up, attached to a piece of fishing line. Mike screamed and almost backed into the wall.

Steve suddenly came back to the present. The first things he saw were Mike and Lucas and he started laughing, laughing so hard he wheezed. Dustin yelled at first, not sure what was going on, but then he laughed, too. Max was almost bent over she was cackling so hard.

“Asshole!” Mike exclaimed as he walked past them, back to the door.

Lucas finally managed to get the skeleton off him. “You’re a dick,” he told Steve.

“Happy Halloween,” the older boy quipped. “Max, you okay?”

Max waved her hand, unable to speak. She finally caught her breath. “I’m good. That made my night.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Lucas protested.

“You screamed so high, like my mom.” She screamed, trying to mimic him.

“I did not!”

“That was the best thing ever.” Max wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Movies at my place,” Mike announced from the door. He was leaving, whether they came or not.

The other two joined him. They looked back to Dustin and Steve. “You coming, Dustin?” Mike asked.

Dustin looked at his older friend. “I gotta clean up, but then I’ll be there.”

Mike nodded, shot Steve a final scowl, and left the room. “Let’s blow this Popsicle stand,” Lucas remarked.

“Thanks for the laughs, Steve,” Max reiterated as she walked out. “You really had us going there.”

“You, shithead!” Dustin punched Steve in the arm. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You really had me going. You were all creepy, staring off into the distance.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. His brain was a little fuzzy, but he remembered setting the traps, and then the kids springing the traps, so he figured things had gone as planned, somehow. “Whoa, is this her room?” Dustin looked around, suddenly aware of where he was.

“Yeah, this is Lillian’s room.”

“We should’ve done the séance in here.”

“No, no more seances. You got one.” Steve bent down and picked up the book from the floor. How had that gotten there? He tucked it back in his pocket. “How’d it go?”

Dustin huffed. “Nada.” He picked up the skeleton from the floor. “But this was fun.”

“Not so lame after all,” Steve proclaimed.

Dustin stayed behind to clean up his séance and to help Steve clean up the rest of his traps. “I’m sad we didn’t get to find all these,” he spoke as he pulled a rubber bat from its hiding place.

“You found the best ones,” Steve assured.

With the house restored to normal, the two of them walked through the kitchen to the employee door. Dustin hesitated. “Your friends are waiting for you.”

“Are those cupcakes?” Dustin pointed to a silver tray on the small table in the room. Apparently, one of the guides had brought in festive goodies. “I thought you couldn’t bring food?” He sounded hurt, like Steve had been holding out on him.

“I can’t bring food. You can’t bring food.” The confirmation didn’t make Dustin feel any better. Poor kid looked sad, like a lost puppy. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t eat the food,” Steve pointed out.

Four cupcakes later, they were sitting at the table, a small, still growing pile of wrappers between them. “These are so good,” Dustin spoke around a mouthful. 

Steve nodded in agreement. For some reason, these cupcakes were making him feel better, clearing up the fuzziness in his head. “We shouldn’t eat all of these.” Dustin grunted in agreement, but they both kept eating.

“How’s Suzy?” Steve asked after he swallowed another bite. He hadn’t talked with the kid in a while, not really. That didn’t seem like the right question to ask, though, because Dustin slouched down and looked upset.

“I think she’s gonna break up with me.”

“Why? I thought you all were going strong?”

Dustin pushed the rest of his cupcake away and sighed. This was bad. “I don’t know, she just, seems different. Like, our conversations are all weird now, barely an hour, and we used to talk for three hours.”

“Did you do something?”

“No.”

“Did you say anything to upset her?”

“No. Why do you think I did something?!” Dustin folded his arms and sulked.

“Because when a woman’s mad at you, you probably did something,” Steve advised. 

“I’m a perfect gentleman,” Dustin protested.

“Okay.” Steve finished off his third cupcake and added the wrapper to the pile. “We can fix this.” He thought for a moment. The book was a steady presence in his back pocket, and it gave him an idea. “Send her a gift.”

“No, her parents will see it and get mad. She’s not supposed to date outside the faith.”

“Don’t make it obvious,” Steve added. “Send her a book.”

“A book?”

“Yeah, but hide little notes in it, in the margins. Her parents will never know. Send her a book of poetry.”

“I’ll send her a book on quadratic equations.” Dustin smiled.

“Or quadratic equations.” Steve picked up another cupcake. Seriously, why couldn’t he stop eating these? It was like he needed them to live or something. He was going to be so sick in the morning.

Dustin picked up his unfinished cupcake but then set it back down again. There was something else he wanted to talk to Steve about. It was part of the reason he’d hung back when the others went on. “They announced the date for the community baseball game again,” he spoke up.

Steve groaned. Why did they always set that date so early? More importantly, why did they still have that thing?

“I’ve never played in it,” Dustin commented, trying to be causal.

Steve didn’t notice his tone, too into his new cupcake. “You’re not missing anything. My dad made my uncle take me one year. That was a bust. Then he sent his assistant the next year. A-hole sent a proxy to the father son baseball game.” His words finally reached his ears, and Steve paused. This was a father and son game, of course Dustin had never been able to play. His dad wasn’t in the picture, and he didn’t have an older brother like Will did. Kid was growing up, and he was running out of chances.

Dustin swallowed hard and looked up at his friend. “Maybe you could be my teammate this year?”

Steve felt all those cupcakes now, churning around in his stomach. He was Dustin’s friend, sure, but father figure? This was uncharted territory. Still, he knew what he had to do, and it was going to be the most adult thing he’d ever done in his nineteen years. “We’ll kick their asses,” he assured the younger boy.

Dustin smiled so wide he was practically beaming. “Hell yeah we will.”

Without thinking about it, Steve took another bite of his cupcake. “I need to stop eating these,” he insisted. “You better get going,” he told Dustin. “Go bother your real friends.”

Dustin stood and shouldered his heavy duffle. “Thanks for tonight, and thanks for the advice about Suzy. I’ll get my mom to buy the book tomorrow.”

“Tonight, the advice was free. Tomorrow it’ll cost you.”

“I liked this, us, conversing. I missed it.”

Steve nodded, licking icing off his fingertips. “Me too, kid.”

“Someday you’re gonna get a girlfriend and not want to talk to me anymore.”

Steve laughed. That didn’t seem like it was going to happen anytime soon, especially not now with the way he was stuffing his face. “Unlikely,” he voiced.

“You never know,” Dustin reasoned, “the perfect girl could be right here waiting for you.”

“Maybe so,” Steve agreed because it seemed important to the boy.

“Well, not here, because this house is full of old people and . . .”

“Good night, Dustin!”


	8. A New Face in an Old Space

Chapter Seven 

November 1, 1985

A New Face in an Old Space

“Hey, kid!” Larry wrapped on the side of the employee pantry door, causing Steve to jump as he signed in for the evening.

“Jesus, Larry.”

“What’s got you so jumpy?”

“Sneaking up behind a person tends to make ‘em jumpy,” Steve defended.

“You, uh, sure you’re good to cover for Sid this weekend? He can’t really leave the house ‘til his wife gets back on her feet.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Steve was glad not to have the weekend off, which was a bizarre reversal in his entire being up to that point.

Larry pondered him for a moment. “You don’t have much of a life, do you?”

Really? Who was Larry to judge on a life well lived? Steve wished he had a clever comeback, but he didn’t.

“Come on, kid, I wanna show you something.” Larry motioned for Steve to follow. He really hated when Larry called him “kid.” He should probably stop calling Dustin kid, but then what else was he going to call him?

Larry lead the way to the Rose Room. A steady stream of conversation could be heard coming from the usually quiet room. The older guard stopped right outside the room and motioned for Steve to look in. A dozen or so older ladies filled the space, animatedly chatting. They sported very similar, old fashioned looking dresses in various colors. Bernice was among them, and she waved at Steve. He waved back.

“The Wysteria Mooregrove Chapter of the Distinguished Daughters of Hawkins. They meet here every year, first week in November. They’ll be here through next Friday. They’ve already set up in the kitchen. They’re never any trouble, but they’ll be here. They’re usually gone by 10:00.”

“They stay that late?” Steve was shocked.

“What can I say, they’re passionate.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know, this house, the town, the past, their grandchildren, moles that need removing.”

“It’s a room full of Bernices,” Steve whispered.

“Yep, have fun answering a million questions about your personal life.” Larry adjusted his belt and headed for the front door. Just as he reached it, the door opened and in walked Nancy Wheeler.

“Am I late for the meeting?”

“Right down the hall. Can’t miss ‘em.” Larry pointed the way and then he was out.

“Are you stalking me?” Steve asked as Nancy approached.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m here to cover the meeting for the paper.”

“Again with the hard hitting news.”

“I’ll hit you,” she threatened.

“Manners, this is a dignified event.” Steve ushered her into the room.

“Oh, there’s the sweet girl from the paper,” Bernice crooned as Nancy entered.

“Have fun,” Steve whispered before making a hasty retreat.

At least having the meeting there would make the time pass faster, but a part of Steve was perturbed to be sharing the house with other people. “It’s only a few hours,” his mind reasoned.

As he walked back to the employee pantry, a flash of white darted through the hall in front of him. Steve froze. Whatever that had been, it was on its way to the kitchen.  
His hand on his nightstick, Steve cautiously turned the corner. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. As quietly as he could, he crept along the hallway to the kitchen. He clutched the handle of his nightstick, crossed the threshold into the room and, there was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. She was standing there among the deviled eggs and the pound cake and the odd, Jell-O based concoction in the ring mold. She was dressed in a simple, white dress, with her long, blond hair cascading down her shoulders. She looked like something from a dream. Steve forgot how words worked.

She must have forgotten, too, because she didn’t say anything, either. After a moment of awkward silence, Steve remembered how to speak. “Are you here for the meeting?” This girl seemed a little young to be in that other room, but she was dressed for the event.

The girl looked out the doorway. She seemed both relieved and terrified that Steve had spoken to her. “Yes,” she finally replied.

“Did you get lost?” Steve joked. The girl still seemed confused.

“No.”  
Steve nodded. Not sure what to say next. “There’s a lot of food here. I don’t know about that Jell-O thing, though, looks like it was made in the ‘50s.” The girl looked down at the table, but she didn’t reply.

Man, he was really crushing this moment, and not in a good way. “My name’s Steve.” He reached out his hand, but the girl didn’t take it. She looked even more confused. Steve let his hand drop.

“Oh, you were offering your hand.” She suddenly seemed very embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I’m out of practice.” The girl trailed off and looked away.

“It’s okay. I’m kind of off my game tonight, too.” Steve watched her as she surveyed the room. He should probably step out, give her some space. But man, was she pretty. If every pretty thing on earth formed together into a single entity, it would be this girl.

“What’s your name?” he blurted out, because he had to know.

She looked at him, and her eyes were a piercing blue, like the sky on a clear, summer day. “Marie?” she spoke with hesitation, almost like she wasn’t sure.

“Marie,” he repeated. “Would you like me to escort you back to the meeting, Marie?”

She smiled for the first time. It was a small smile, but it was glorious. It took Steve’s breath away. “Yes.”

Marie joined him at the door, and the two of them walked out together. They didn’t say anything, but Steve was fine with the silence. She stopped them halfway down the hall. “Thank you, Steve.” The way she said his name made his heart skip a beat. She smiled again, larger this time, and walked on alone.

Steve watched until she disappeared into the Rose Room. He fought the urge to peak around the threshold and spy on her. Instead, he returned to the employee pantry and tried to put his mind to other things. Inside the Rose Room, several ladies pulled their shrugs and wraps closer around them. “Bernice, I thought you said they got a new boiler?” one of the ladies complained.

A few hours later, Nancy knocked on the wall beside the employee pantry. Steve looked up from his book. He’d successfully fought the urge to spy for three hours now. “The ladies wanted me to tell you we’re heading out. Still reading Tennyson, I see?” Nancy pointed at his book.

“Yeah. Hey, is that girl still here?” Steve looked past Nancy and down the hall. He was hoping Marie was still around.

“Who, Bernice?”

“No, the young girl, our age. Marie, that was her name.”

“I don’t remember a Marie, and I’m pretty sure I was the youngest person in that room.” Nancy looked at her watch and almost gagged. “9:15? Ugh, I have a physics final tomorrow. See you around, Steve.” She hurried down the hall.

Steve left the pantry and moved to the kitchen. Bernice was putting the leftovers in the fridge. “You help yourself to any of this food, dear, especially the Jell-O loaf. I made it myself.”

“Thanks, Bernice.” Steve had no intention of touching that “loaf.”

“We’ll be back tomorrow night. I do love this meeting. It’s my favorite time of the year.” She let out a contented sigh.

“Hey, Bernice, is Marie still around?” 

“Mar – Oh, Mariah, no, she went on home.”

“No, Marie.” 

“See you tomorrow, dear.” Bernice patted his arm and left through the employee entrance. Steve locked up after her. He slowly walked to the front door and made sure it was locked good and tight, too. He wasn’t shocked Marie hadn’t stuck around, not really. He hadn’t made that great an impression. Stupid nerves. He used to be so cool, smooth.  
Steve sighed and resumed his seat in the employee pantry. He reopened the book to the poem he was reading and leaned back in the beat-up chair.

“What are you reading?” The voice was soft and sweet, and it didn’t even make Steve jump, which was a shocker given his earlier experiences that night.

Steve turned and smiled. “Marie.”

“Steve,” she replied. He could listen to her say his name until the end of time.

“I think I locked you in. Sorry.”

She laughed, and it was beautiful, just like he’d imagined it would be. “I can stay. No apologies needed.” She pointed to his book again, and he held it up so she could see the cover. Her eyes lit up in recognition. 

“There she weaves by night and day  
A magic web with colours gay.   
She has heard a whisper say,   
A curse is on her if she stay   
To look down to Camelot.”

Steve took over the recitation for her without a moment’s hesitation.

“She knows not what the curse may be,   
And so she weaveth steadily,   
And little other care hath she,   
The Lady of Shalott.”

Marie smiled and leaned against the doorway. “You have read the book a lot.”

“It’s a quiet job.”

Marie looked around the office. “They put you in the pantry?”

“I knew it had to be a pantry. How did you know that?”

She seemed a little flustered but shrugged it off. “I’ve spent a lot of time here. I know this house well.”

“You come to that meeting every year?”

“I am around for it, yes.”

“Can I ask a question?”

Marie seemed unsure, but she replied, “You may.”

“Why? You’re like two generations younger.” Steve laughed, and she laughed, too.

“My mother was heavily involved with those meetings.”

Steve watched her for a moment, summing her up. “You’re an old soul.”

Marie liked this answer. “Yes, I am.” She looked out into the hallway and then back at Steve. “Come with me.”

Steve didn’t need to be invited twice. He quickly left his chair and book behind and followed Marie. The two of them walked down the hall and up the stairs in companionable silence. She led him to third floor bedroom and into the closet library.

“Technically we’re not supposed to be in here,” Steve pointed out.

“You’re with me,” she assured him.

“Cocky, aren’t we?” he joked.

“If you are insinuating, I am a braggart, sir, you may be right.” That hadn’t been the answer Steve was expecting, and he laughed out loud. 

Marie found the books she was looking for and pulled two from the shelf. She passed one to Steve. “Jane Eyre,” he read the title.

“A break from Tennyson.”

“What are you reading?” Steve noticed she was reading the same title. He looked at the shelves and realized there were at least two copies of most titles. “Huh, there are multiples of everything.”

Marie looked sad. “What do you get an invalid who cannot leave home?”

Steve turned that over in his mind for a moment. “You get her another way to travel the world.”

Marie gasped and Steve was afraid he’d done something wrong. “That was the most beautiful turn of phrase I’ve ever heard. I suspect you have an old soul, too.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know about that.”

“Come on.” Marie lead him out of the library and back down the stairs. The rest of the night, they sat across from one another at the kitchen table, reading their books. 

Marie would watch Steve until he looked up and caught her eyes. “I’m not there yet,” he huffed. “You read too fast.”

“I know the book too well.”

Steve held up his hand. “You gotta give me a minute.” His eyes scanned the page quickly, and then he gasped.

“You got there?”

“I got there.”

Marie nodded and looked back to her book. “Keep reading. It only gets better.”

Steve spared a glance to the clock on the wall. “You sure you don’t need to go? It’s getting late.”

Marie shrugged. “Perhaps it’s early? I am fine where I am.”

“No one waiting at home for you?” he dared to ask.

“No.”

“Me either.” Steve smiled and returned to his book. The hours ticked on as they read. It was the most bizarre and pleasurable time Steve had ever spent with someone else.


	9. Every Secret Place

Chapter Eight

November 2-7, 1985

Every Secret Place

“I feel kind of guilty, like I’m keeping you from your meeting.” Steve drug the toe of his boot across the hard, November ground. He glanced at the girl by his side. Marie had asked to accompany him on his perimeter check. It was not an exciting event, by far, but Steve was glad for the company.

Marie shrugged. “One year is much like the next.”

“I don’t know, they could be changing a bylaw or something in there.” Steve smiled and Marie returned it.

“The bylaws have not changed since 1948. Trust me, I’d rather be out here.”

Steve’s heart trilled in his chest. He looked up at the sky. The light was dim now. The sun had set, but the stars were not yet out. It wasn’t cold, but it was chilly. Steve felt the weight of his official, uniform approved jacket, and he was suddenly embarrassed. Marie was only in that thin dress. She had to be cold.

“Do you want my jacket?” He fumbled to take it off. A gentleman offered his jacket to a lady, even Steve, as uncouth as he could be, knew that much.

Marie smiled at his eagerness. “No thank you. I’m fine.”

Steve didn’t believe her. “Really? You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“It’s pretty chilly out here.” He held his jacket out for her to take, but she didn’t reach for it.

“I don’t feel it.”

“Okay.” Steve slowly put the jacket back on, still not convinced.

They continued their silent but pleasant walk around to the front of the house. The two of them stopped in front of the large tree that towered over the house. Steve placed his boots against one of the giant roots. He’d walked past this tree for weeks, but he’d never really studied it before.

“This is a big tree.”

Marie looked up. “It has grown, yes.”

Steve craned his neck to see where it ended. “Those limbs hanging over the roof, that can’t be good, especially when you have a large, glass feature in your roof.” He shrugged. “Not my problem.”

Larry and another man Steve didn’t recognize clambered down the front stairs. It was obvious from their arms that they’d raided the ever-growing amount of bunt cakes in the kitchen. The older guard looked up and saw Steve. “Hey, Harrington, don’t get the notion to climb that thing. It’s got a blight.”

“Oh.” Steve took a step back.

“Gotta get it chopped down before it falls on the damn house,” the other gentleman commented. He was probably a board member or something.

“We’ll leave it alone,” Steve assured.

“Did he say we?” the other man asked Larry as they walked to their cars.

“Well, you know kids these days,” was Larry’s only thought on the matter.

Marie reached out and touched the trunk of the tree gently. She seemed sad. “Hey, I’m sorry about the tree.”

She shook her head. “Everything has its season.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Marie sighed and stepped back. “Mrs. Mooregrove wanted a tree, as big as the house, a tree under which children and grandchildren could play. Mr. Mooregrove wanted the glass ceiling, made the house unique. Appearances are important.”

Steve scoffed. ‘They sound like my parents.”

“This was the compromise.” Marie pointed at the tree.

“You are like the walking Trivial Pursuit for Mooregrove Manor,” Steve quipped. He was always fascinated by what Marie knew.

Marie looked confused for a moment. “If you mean I have a lot of knowledge about the Mooregrove family, then yes.”

Steve was also fascinated by what Marie didn’t know, but he loved every time she looked confused. Her nose would scrunch up, and she’d cock her head just so, and it was the most endearing thing he’d ever seen in his life. “All right, riddle me this, what was the name of Mr. Mooregrove’s cousin, twice removed?”

Marie stared at him. “Bartholomew,” she replied like it was the most obvious answer.

“You made that up.”

“No, his name was Bartholomew.”

“I have no way to verify that,” Steve protested.

Marie walked past him and back onto the front porch. She looked back at him with her brightest smile, and Steve felt weak in the knees. “You have to trust me.” Her smile didn’t fade as she opened the door and returned to the house. Steve had no choice but to follow her.

Steve had never looked forward to anything in his life as much as he looked forward to his nights at Mooregrove Manor, his nights with Marie. They walked the halls. They read books, so many books. They talked, or sometimes they didn’t. Being with Marie was so easy, like breathing. Steve could just be. He’d never done that before in his life and it was amazing.

Of course, waiting for the night made the days much harder, but Steve took whatever book they were reading home to keep him company. He’d finish at home and they’d start another that night. Steve had never read this quickly in his life. Turns out he was pretty good at it. Who knew? More importantly, the stories were staying with him, unlike anything he’d read in school. Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, Pride and Prejudice, he read them all, or at least most of them. And the way Marie talked about the books, the language she used, well, Steve enjoyed those conversations even more than the books themselves.

On Tuesday, Steve snuck in to work early and up the hidden staircase in the hall closet. Larry was on his rounds, and the Daughters of Hawkins’ meeting was well underway, so no one saw him. Marie had pointed out the false wall to him the night before, and it took nothing to slide the paneling aside. Marie really did know every nook and cranny in the house. The hidden staircase led to a similar closet on the third floor. Steve had to deal with some spiderwebs and lots of junk in the third-floor closet, but it wasn’t that difficult. Marie had asked him to come in early. There was something she wanted to show him. Steve would have crawled through broken glass if she’d asked him to.

Steve quietly closed the bedroom door behind him. Marie’s face lit up when she saw him, and he wanted to remember that moment forever. She was standing by the large window, the drapes drawn behind her. Marie excitedly motioned him over. “What’s the big surprise?” he whispered as he joined her.

Marie didn’t reply. She pulled the curtains back and let the sunset answer for her. The sky was a mix of colors and they filled the room. Steve had never seen anything so beautiful, except the girl he was currently sharing the view with. “I had no idea,” he spoke in awe as he sat on the window seat. Marie joined him. She pulled her knees up to her chest and watched him with fondness.

“Lillian loved this view. I know she did," Steve spoke with certainty.

Marie looked out the window and down the road below. “She did. She liked to look down the street, ‘to many-tower’d Camelot.”

Steve pulled his eyes away from the painting in the sky and looked down the road. It led to Hawkins proper. “Hawkins is not Camelot, trust me.”

“To her it was.”

“I’d rather have this view.” Steve pointed out the window.

Marie looked back at the sky and rested her chin on her knees. ‘’This view can be captivating, but it can also be infuriating, like this house. This house is so many things.”

“I’m sure it felt like a prison to her,” Steve reasoned. His own house felt like that sometimes, a very empty prison.

“Yes,” Marie sighed. “But then the sky would light up like this, full of colors, and the colors would fade, and the lights of Hawkins would burn bright like stars.”

“Bright like stars,” Steve repeated.

Marie considered him as he continued to stare out the window. “You could be Lancelot.”

“What?”

“Lancelot on his way to Camelot.”

“I am not a knight, believe me.”

“You offered me your coat.”

“Ten minutes into our walk,” Steve pointed out.

Marie smiled and leaned forward, untucking her legs. “There’s your silver bugle.”

“You mean my nightstick with its chipped paint?” Steve laughed.

Marie laughed, too. “And this is your armor.”

“Yes, my ever-stylish uniform.”

“His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;  
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode.”

Steve stood as Marie recited. He turned his head to the side, trying to capture what remained of the sun. As she laughed on, he rode his imaginary horse through the room.

“From underneath his helmet flow'd  
His coal-black curls as on he rode,  
As he rode down to Camelot.”

Steve shook his hair from side to side. “I do have that in common with Lance, we both have amazing hair.”

“Have you ever thought about cutting it? Slicking it back?” Marie suggested.

Steve acted wounded. He clutched his chest and staggered back to the window seat, collapsing dramatically. “This hair is my best feature. I’ve worked hard for this.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not used to men with long hair.”

“You think this is long? You don’t watch a lot of MTV, do you?”

Marie made her confused face and snorted. “No, I do not.”

“Seriously, you have to feel this hair. If you feel it, you’ll understand.” Steve reached forward and took her hand. Marie jerked back, almost like she’d been burned. “I’m sorry. I should have asked first.” Steve leaned back, surprised by the sudden change in the room.

Marie felt her wrist where he’d touched her. She'd felt his skin, felt it on her skin. She'd felt the heat from his fingertips. “No, it’s fine. I – you startled me, it’s . . .”

“I washed my hands, I promise,” he attempted to joke.

Marie set her jaw and moved forward suddenly. With only a moment’s hesitation, she ran her hand through his hair. The jolt of electricity that traveled through Steve’s body was pure bliss. Marie carded her hand gently through his hair over and over and this, right here, was heaven. Steve reached out and touched her hair on her shoulders. It was soft like his.

“It is very nice hair,” Marie surmised as she sat back. “Worthy of a knight.”

“I wouldn’t want to be Lancelot,” Steve replied as soon as he could find words again.

“Why not?”

“He dooms her, the Lady of Shalott.”

Marie shook her head. “No, he saves her.”

Steve held out his hand and this time she took it with no hesitation. The two of them watched as the sun continued to slip from the sky. Steve rubbed his thumb gently across her knuckles. “Lillian had a Lancelot. I wonder who he was?”

“Some one she thought loved her, but . . .” Marie took a breath. “We know how that story ends.” She looked down to where their hands were joined. “Have you ever been in love, Steve?”

He looked at her. He needed to be honest with her, nothing less would do for this girl. “I thought I was, once, but I don’t know now. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love, not really. What about you?”

“Same. I thought it was love. I thought he was going to change my world, but he had to leave, serve his country. When he came back, he, didn’t want to see me.” Steve could tell this was difficult for Marie to share, and he squeezed her hand.

“Something like that, it can change a person. I am not who I used to be, trust me.”

“Neither am I,” Marie agreed after a moment. She leaned her head against the window as the shadows started to creep in.

Steve watched her. He was falling for this girl, hard, and he didn’t even know her last name. He should really ask before the week was up, but there was still time. He could do that later. This moment was meant for something else.

He reached out his hand and gently cupped her cheek.

“But Lancelot mused a little space;  
He said, "She has a lovely face;  
God in his mercy lend her grace,  
The Lady of Shalott."

Marie smiled and leaned into his touch. “I told you, he saves her.”

On Wednesday, after everyone had left for the night, Marie made Steve put away his book and come with her. “But I need to know if Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth get together,” he protested as she pulled him down the hall.

“They do.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Marie smiled back at him as she led him up the stairs.

“Where are we going now, some secret room not included on the house’s layout?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, for real?”

Marie didn’t answer him. She led him to the back of the library closet in the third floor bedoorm. There was nothing there but a wall, but all she had to do was push and the wall slid aside to reveal another door. “This house is like Clue,” Steve marveled. “Colonel Mustard in the conservatory with the candlestick.”

“You say the strangest things.”

“You’ve never played Clue?”

“No.”

“I know what I’m brining tomorrow, now that you ruined Pride and Prejudice for me.”

Marie stuck her tongue out at him. She pulled a lever beside the hidden door and it struggled to open. Inside a single light bulb flickered on. There was nothing inside but three, basic walls and an old looking chair bolted to the floor. “Have you brought me here to kill me?”

“Get in, silly.” Marie pushed him in and closed the door on the inside with another lever.

“Or have you brought me here to have your way with me?” Steve couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud. He glanced at Marie from the corner of his eyes, and she was blushing. He’d never seen her blush before. It was interesting to see another color break the pallor of her skin. He liked it.

“Just hold on and pray this works.”

“Pray what works?”

Marie opened a small panel in the wall to reveal a set of buttons. “Wait, is this an . . .”

She pressed one and the small room rattled and shook. The room gave a little lurch, and then it was moving. “Is this an elevator?”

“First one in Hawkins. It helped Lillian move around the house.”

“Why are you just now showing me this?”

“I had to be sure it still worked.”

“Where does it go?” Steve asked as the elevator came to a jerky halt.

“All over the house. Up, down, back.”

“Back?”

The room suddenly lurched backwards, sending Steve tumbling into the seat. “I get the purpose of the chair,” he spoke as the elevator rumbled on. “Come here. I don’t want you to fall.” Steve held out his hand and Marie took it. She let him pull her onto his lap and hold her tight around the waist.

The walls shook around them and the gears made a terrible screeching noise, but there was no where else Steve would rather be. “This isn’t the scariest elevator I’ve been on, believe it or not.”

The room lurched again, and Marie curled closer into him. Steve thought about kissing her, and he hoped she was having the same thought about him. The walls wailed around them and they laughed. “No stealth mode on this thing”

“It’s over sixty years old, have a little consideration.”

The room suddenly stopped. “Where are we?”

Marie reluctantly left his lap and moved to the lever. “Should be the wine cellar.”

“Wine cellar?! Seriously, you have been holding out on me.”

“Fa – Mr. Mooregrove had a very impressive wine collection.”

Steve turned on his flashlight and walked into the dark space. He could see rows upon rows of wine racks. He walked to the nearest one and picked up a dusty bottle. “1918, nice. I’m filing this away for later.”

Steve put the bottle back and rejoined Marie in the elevator. “Why would Lillian’s personal elevator travel to the wine cellar?”

“Other family members used it, obviously. And every girl enjoys an appropriate drink,” she added as she closed the door.

It took them a while to visit all the other floors, where they discovered most of the doors had been covered over by walls. But it didn’t matter, as long as Steve could sit there with Marie on his lap, laughing and holding on to him so tight, well, he didn’t care if they ever found their way out or not.

On Thursday, Bernice delivered devastating news. “The meeting is over. The ladies voted to end a day early.” She clucked her tongue as she tossed out the leftovers. “It’s not like it used to be, now they have to hurry home. The passion, that’s what’s missing.” She offered her barely touched Jell-O loaf to Steve. He quickly declined.

The meeting was over. What did this mean for Marie? Would he see her tonight? He thought they had more time. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he felt like he was about to have a panic attack.

“What about Marie?! Has she gone home?”

“Yes, dear, Mariah has gone home.”

“No, Marie.” Steve wished there was someone else here to talk to.

Bernice closed the fridge and looked at the rest of the leftovers despondently. “I don’t have the heart for this tonight. Help yourself to whatever, dear. I’ll finish cleaning up in the morning. Good night.” She walked past him, oblivious to his world crumbling around her.

Steve barely remembered to lock the employee door behind her. He walked back to the pantry, but he didn’t want to sit down. Pride and Prejudice was still there, waiting for him to finish it. He was so close, but he couldn’t bring himself to read right now. He was about to vibrate out of his skin. With no other recourse, he picked up his neglected Walkman and jammed the headphones over his ears. He turned it on, listening to the first song without really hearing it.

Suddenly, there was a wrapping sound. Steve lowered the headphones and stepped out into the hall. The wrapping was a knocking, and it was coming from the employee door. He hurried over, almost tripping over his feet, and there was Marie, looking through the glass back at him. He opened the door and fought the urge to tackle her. “You came back!”

“I never left.”

“The meeting is over. I thought you’d gone home.”

“I’m still here.”

Steve stepped aside and let her in. She pointed to his Walkman, a questioning look on her face. “What is that contraption?”

“You’ve never seen a Walkman before?”

“No, but I’ve lived a sheltered life,” she hurried to add.

Steve took the headset off and placed it gently on her ears. She listened to the song and he laughed at her expression. “What is this music?”

“You don’t like this song?” She shook her head no. “It’s got a good beat and it’s easy to dance to.”

“How do you dance to this?”

“Like this.” Steve placed his hands on her hips and moved in close. They swayed from side to side, their eyes locked on one another.

“This isn’t dancing. This is swaying,” Marie pointed out, breaking the moment.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes, I’ll show you.” Marie took off the headset and passed it back to Steve.

From the employee pantry, the walkie talkie crackled. “Steve, do you copy? This is Dustin. Are you there? Over.”

Steve hesitated. “Hold on just a minute.” He returned to the pantry reluctantly.

“Steve, do you copy? This is Dustin. Are you there? Over.”

“Yeah, Dustin, I’m here. Over.”

“Great! Can you talk right now? Over.”

Steve looked at Marie standing in the doorway. She held out her hand for him.

“I’ll have to call you back, okay? I’m busy right now, kid. Over.” Steve turned off the walkie talkie and accepted Marie’s hand.

Across town, Dustin was broken hearted, for many reasons. “Okay, over and out,” he spoke with a shaky voice and turned off his radio. Every part of him felt heavy as he left his desk and crawled into bed. He didn’t know what was worse, the fact that Suzy had broken up with him, or that his best friend wasn’t available to talk him through it.

Back at Mooregrove Manor, Marie led Steve into the Rose Room. She selected a record from the shelf and wound up the Victrola. The music filled the room as she returned to his side. “This is how you dance.” She took his hand and guided his other hand to her waist.

“I might step all over your feet.”

“I trust you.”

Steve smiled and they began to dance through the room. He didn’t miss a step once. Marie leaned her head against his chest. The sound of his heart beating was sweeter than the music that filled the air. That was the sound of a promise, of tomorrow, of a way out.


	10. Nine Tenths of the Law

Chapter Nine

November 8, 1985

Nine-Tenths of the Law

Steve hadn’t meant to get drunk. He was on the clock, and he knew he wasn’t getting paid to drink wine. But he also wasn’t getting paid to sit in the attic of Mooregrove Manor with the girl of his dreams playing Clue, but that was his current reality. Whatever, the doors were locked, the house was secure. This may be the last night he would ever see Marie, and he was going to make the best of it. 

He’d originally thought the wine would take the edge off, or make the night more magical, or something. The stuff tasted like shit, and it burned all the way down. He’d offered some to Marie, and she just stared at her cup at first, like it was poison. “You don’t have to drink it. Don’t feel pressured,” Steve hurried to assure. He was about to take the offending glass away from her, when she lifted it to her lips and proceeded to drain it in one drink.

“Marry me,” Steve mumbled.

Marie gagged and set the glass down. “Oh, that wine has not aged well.”

“It’s over sixty years old, have a little consideration,” he told her, tossing her own words back to her from the day before. “You threw that back like it was nothing.”

“I’ve been known to sneak a drink or two, when my parents were out.”

“You should come to my house. My parents are never home, and the liquor cabinet is wide open.” Steve realized he’d invited her over, and he paled a little. He was terrified of being shot down.

“How do you play this game?” Marie changed the topic.

An hour later, Steve knew he was hammered. He didn’t think Marie was drunk, but he was certainly there. He really hadn’t had that much to drink, but this stuff was hitting him hard, must have been the age or something. That, or he was out of practice. He wasn’t exactly going to a lot of keggers anymore. “Why are we in this room?” Steve slurred as he looked around the attic.

“You said you were bringing a children’s game over. This was the playroom.”

“That doll’s staring at me.” Steve gestured to a porcelain doll’s head peeking over a nearby box.

“Petunia is not staring at you.”

“Shit, it has a name?!”

Marie shook her head and walked over to the offending doll. She turned the box around, so the doll was facing the other way. “Better?”

“My hero,” Steve beamed.

“You are silly.” Marie tapped him on the nose and sat back down. “Petunia was Lillian’s favorite doll, not that she spent much time in this playroom. Her illness kept her bed bound most of her youth.”

“What was wrong with her?”

Marie shrugged. “Doctors said rheumatic fever, but her parents kept it very hush hush.”

Steve leaned in, knocking the board with his knee. “Do you think they were poisoning her?”

Marie didn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Steve took another swig of the wine. “She didn’t have a lot of love for her parents. I read her notes in the margins. She felt like a prisoner, trapped.” He went to take another drink, but the bottle was empty. It was probably for the best. “But she had someone to live for, something.”

“Sir Lancelot,” Marie spoke, her voice almost a whisper.

“I would love to have something to live for, like seriously. I have people I would die for, but it’d be nice to have a reason to live. Like I exist, I’m a good exister, if that’s even a word.” 

“Mrs. Peacock in the library with the rope,” Marie announced.

“You’re not supposed to announce it.”

“You told me if I got to this space on the board, I could make an educated guess. I got to that space.”

Steve fumbled with the game envelope. He looked at the cards inside. “Ah, fu - dge it, you’re right.” He tossed the cards down.

“I won?”

“You won.”

Marie clapped her hands. “I never had anyone to play board games with.”

Steve considered her. “We are like two peas in a pod.” The wine was really hitting him now, and he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he noticed a wooden ladder in the corner leading up. “Where does that go?”

Marie followed his gaze. “The roof.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Is that how she got on the roof?”

“Yes.”

He moved the game board aside and awkwardly scooted closer to Marie. “You’re the expert on Mooregrove Manor. You tell me, did she jump?”

Marie seemed to shrink in on herself. “I don’t know,” she finally replied.

“I’m sorry. That was a shit question to ask.” Steve ran his hand across his face and through his hair. 

“Do you think she jumped?” Marie asked after an awkward moment of silence.

“I – I would get it, you know, if she did, but I – I see so much fire in her, in her words. I don’t know, I guess.”

Marie moved until she was right by his side. She leaned her head against his arm, and this was nice, awkward, poorly lit attic and all. “I’m off like the next three days,” Steve finally spoke up. “Sid’s wife is back on her feet.”

“Oh.” Marie held on to him a little tighter.

“Are you going home, wherever home is?” Steve had to know. There was no putting off this conversation any longer. Time was not going to slow down for them.

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure you’re going home, or you’re not sure where home is?” Steve laughed. He looked at Marie, and he couldn’t discern the look on her face.

“I’m not sure how this works.”

“This, like us?”

“Yes.”

“So there’s an us?” Steve liked that. He liked that a lot. “Where do you live? Maybe I can come visit, or give me your phone number, and I’ll call.”

“Steve . . .”

His heart sank at her tone. “Shit, you have a boyfriend back home, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Oh, good. I’d have to kick his ass, and truth be told, I am not a good ass kicker. I can take a beating, though.” Marie laughed, and Steve pulled her close to his chest.

She placed her hand over his heart and tried to take comfort in the steady beat. “There are things I cannot tell you.”

Steve gently lifted her chin. “Are you in witness protection? Because I was almost in that, no shit. I know things, things no one should know. Like Russian spy crap, and alternate universes, and . . . you didn’t hear any of that.”

“I’m not sure what you are talking about, but no.”

“Marie, there is nothing you could say that would shock me.”

She bit her bottom lip and held his gaze for a moment. No, she couldn’t do it, not now. Marie curled back into his chest. “We have this moment here, now.”

“Yeah, but I want a moment tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that,” Steve protested. “Can I have those moments, too?”

“I don’t know,” her voice sounded so timid and small. Steve hated that. “I don’t know how this works.”

“You tell your parents you’d like to stay and visit your hot, new boyfriend Steve. That’s how it works.”

“It’s not my parents.”

“Then what is it?” Steve pushed her up and away slightly, holding her gently by her shoulders. She looked scared and he wanted to know why. “What is it, Marie?”

“This house.”

“Like a curse?” Steve whispered.

“I believe so.”

Steve suddenly stood up. He placed his hands on his hips and assumed an authoritative pose. “House, this is Steve Harrington speaking! I command you to let Marie leave. She’s coming with me! We’re going to do all kinds of cool shit, and you can’t stop us.” He looked back at her. “Did I break it?”

“I doubt it.”

Steve sat back down beside her and took her face in his hands. He ran his thumb tenderly across her lips. “This always works in the movies.” Ever so gently, he leaned in and kissed her softly. 

“Tell me I can go with you,” Marie whispered against his lips. She kissed him the second time, and this one was longer.

“You can come with me,” Steve spoke as their lips parted. He held her as close as he could. “Where I go, you go.”

“Tell me I’m yours.”

“You’re mine, and I’m yours.” He laced their hands together, and he had to blink hard because it looked like there were sparks of light traveling between their fingertips. Then the sparks became a glow, and Steve couldn’t tell what was his hand and what was Marie’s. There must have been something in that wine, some bad fermentation going on or something. But the light wasn’t hot or burning, and it was pleasant to look at. There was an odd thrumming in his body, and his brain was feeling fuzzy again like it had on Halloween, but none of it felt bad. It felt like standing on a cliff by the ocean, right before you jump off into the waves below. 

Steve laughed lightly and tried to move his hand. Marie’s hand moved with his. “Huh, look at that.” He smiled at her, his grin lopsided from drink and lack of sleep.

“Where you go, I go,” Marie assured him. She kissed him, and Steve didn’t remember a thing after that.


	11. There's Got to be a Morning After

Chapter Ten

November 9, 1985

“There’s Got to be a Morning After”

Steve awoke later that day in his own bed with no real recollection of how he got back to his house after work. Did he get behind the wheel of his car and drive? He was never telling Dustin about this, ever. Steve rolled over and everything hurt. It felt like his bones were shifting in his skin, almost like they didn't fit anymore, which made no sense. His brain was so fuzzy. He didn't really have a headache; it was more like constant static. What was the last thing he remembered from the previous night? He remembered the old and gross wine, and that was probably the culprit right there. But this didn't feel like a hangover to Steve, at least not like any of his other ones. His stomach didn't hurt like it usually did after a night of drinking. In fact, he was famished. The thought of food was not making him sick, and he was craving sugar above anything else.

He attempted to lift his arm out from under the covers, and it didn't want to move at first. His brain had a mini panic attack as it tried to remember what it needed to do to move his limbs. Slowly but surely, all his faculties rebooted, and Steve found he could not only free his arms, but he could also sit up. His bones were feeling less foreign, but that static was still in his head. What had he done last night? Think, Steve. He concentrated hard and he could remember the attic and the board game and Marie!

Steve looked to his left and almost screamed. There was Marie sitting in a chair by his bed. She was giving him the funniest look.

"You slept a long time," she commented.

"You're here, in my house." Steve was so confused.

"Where you go, I go, remember?" 

And Steve did remember that, kind of, but he certainly didn’t remember the two of them moving the party to his house. He didn’t think he’d ever been this drunk in his life, not to the point where he forgot whole portions of the night. Crap, if he had been that wasted, had Marie been wasted, too? He didn’t think she had been, but what if she’d agreed in a drunken stupor and this was all a terrible mistake? Fear gripped his heart, but he had to know before this awkward day could move on.

“This was consensual, right? Like you want to be here?”

“Yes, I want to be here in this chair watching you sleep.”

“Shit, you slept in the chair?” Steve was really racking up the chivalry points here.

“Steve, it’s all right. I do want to be here.”

He ran his hand over his face and through his hair, which felt super gross and greasy. Oh yeah, this was a banner start for the next step in their relationship. “And it’s okay for you to be here? No one’s gonna freak and come looking for you?”

“I do not believe so, no.” Marie seemed pretty certain of her answer, and that made Steve feel a little better. He looked around his room as his eyes continued to adjust, and it was a filthy mess. Of course, it was. The clock by his bed read 1:15 pm. Well, so much for the morning. If Steve was this hungry, he could only imagine how hungry Marie was. He needed to get up, get himself together and be a decent host.

“I’ll, uh, get us some breakfast, or lunch or something.” Steve attempted to swing his legs over the side of the bed, but the static in his head was messing with his equilibrium or something. His feet caught on the sheet and he stumbled. Marie giggled. “Pretend you didn’t see that.”

The jerking motion of the sheet had upset his pillow, sliding it to the side and revealing the book stashed beneath it. Marie gasped and picked up the very familiar, well-worn volume of Tennyson’s poems. “Did you take this?” 

Crap, he had taken that book from Mooregrove Manor, but he had meant to fix it after the pages had fallen out of the back. He had good intentions, honestly. Exactly when and why he’d stashed it under his pillow, he couldn’t remember. But now he seemed like some creep, maybe even borderline serial killerish. Marie was surely not sticking around for long, Steve thought. He couldn’t believe she hadn’t left already.

“I was going to fix it,” he struggled to explain.

Marie clutched the book to her chest. “Lillian slept with a book under her pillow; too, sometimes it was this very book.”

“Oh," was all he could say.

“I think it’s sweet.”

Good, at least that was working in Steve’s favor. Now, to do something about his appearance and his hunger. 

“What other books do you have hidden in your bed?” Marie stood and made to lift the covers, but Steve stopped her. He had not cleaned his room, which meant that magazine was still under the mattress and no, Marie would not be finding that.

“That’s the only one.” He took her hand, and she threaded her fingers through his. A tiny jolt of electricity traveled through his body and for a second the static in his head was better. “My books are, uh, kind of all over this room and the house.”

“I bet I can find your favorite book,” Marie bragged.

“Okay, yeah, you do that, and I’m going to change my clothes and get us some food.”

There was no food in the house, of course not, so Steve had to venture into the wider world. He’d changed out of his uniform, which he’d unfortunately slept in, and slapped a hat on. Usually hiding his hair was a big no, but today was not a good hair day. He’d left Marie looking around the house, trying to locate his favorite book. She seemed perfectly content to stay, and Steve felt comfortable leaving her in his house. It was kind of thrilling to think he’d get to drive home to her.

On the drive to the store, the static in his head got worse. It was now full-blown interference, and he didn’t know what he needed to take to make it go away. Pain killers? Benadryl? An actual drill? He grumbled as he fought a shopping cart loose from its bin and pushed it into the store. Ugh, why were the artificial lights so bright? They weren’t helping with his head situation. He should have brought his sunglasses.

Now that Steve was in the store, he was faced with a much more pressing problem. How much food did he need to buy? Marie assured him whatever he bought was fine, and that had not been helpful at all. He needed guidance. Did he just get some breakfast stuff, or some sandwich stuff, or enough for dinner? He sighed and ventured into the store proper. He grabbed some fruit because it seemed like he should. Marie was probably more health conscious than he was, so he couldn’t just get his usual junk food. 

As hungry as Steve was, none of the food looked that appealing, not until he got to the bakery, and then hot damn! Steve filled his cart with cookies and cupcakes and actual cakes and pies, and he wasn’t a bit ashamed about it. In fact, he was fighting the urge to tear a pack open and devour a dozen cookies right there in the store. But no, he wasn’t going to do that. He was going to get some drinks and then maybe some sandwich stuff and he was going to go home. 

Steve got a gallon of milk, because again he felt like he should. But then he saw the orange juice, sitting there in the cooler all orange and full of sugar. The static in his head was almost unbearable now. Without really thinking about it, he opened the nearest carton and began to chug. And, oh yeah, that was helping.  
“Steve?” Robin asked in surprise from behind.

Steve held up his hand. Robin would have to wait because this orange juice was vital to his existence right now. She just stood there and watched him as he downed the whole carton. He gasped for breath at the end and leaned back against the cooler. The static in his head was so much better now.

“Damn, that was impressive,” she remarked.

Steve looked at the empty carton and tossed it in the buggy. He reached back in the cooler and began to load his buggy with full cartons. “You, uh, doing okay, Steve?”

“Yeah, I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m all right. Just here looking for some poster board.” Robin looked down in his buggy. “What’ve we got here? You having a bake sale and serving orange juice?”

“No, for your information I am entertaining.”

“The kids got you doing their shopping for them? Is this for a PTA meeting?”

Steve scoffed. “No. I am entertaining a lady.”

“Ooooh.” Robin looked back at the buggy. “And this is what you got?”

“It’s a work in progress. Don’t judge me.” Steve steered his cart away, although he wasn’t sure where he was going. That damn static was coming back again.

He turned down the baking aisle and Robin followed. He suddenly stopped before the large bags of sugar and picked one up and added it to his cart. “You sure you’re not going to a bake sale?”

“It’s not for a bake sale!” Steve barked in reply and Robin held her hands up in defense.

“Okay.”

Steve opened another carton of orange juice, but he sipped on this one as they walked. It really did help, for some reason.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Why?” he asked around the cardboard carton.

“You look a little rough, honestly.”

“I drank some old wine last night.”

“Aw. Wait, I thought you had work last night?”

“I didn’t say it was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

Steve turned down the soft drink aisle and stopped at the nearest display of Jolt Cola. “All the sugar, twice the caffeine,” he read. He liked the sound of that. Steve filled what space was left with lots of cans.

“Um, maybe go easy on the Jolt Cola there.”

“Why?”

“That much caffeine cannot be good for you.”

“I’ll get a Tab, too. Girls like Tab, right?” Steve tossed a Tab in with the rest.

“Stereotyping is very unbecoming,” Robin scolded, but then reconsidered. “But I actually do like Tab. Damn.” Robin grabbed a can before they moved on.

“I, uh, think I’m done,” Steve surmised.

Robin looked at the buggy. “Really?”

Steve shrugged. “I’ll order a pizza.”

“I don’t know what kind of kinky stuff you all are into, but I hope you have a great time with your lady friend/bake sale.”

Steve finished the rest of his carton of juice on his way home. He struggled to get all the groceries inside in one trip, but he was not going back. “Marie?” he asked as he entered the house. He didn’t hear anything at first, and for a moment he was scared she’d left. 

“I’m still looking!” came a voice from the back of the house.

“I got us some food.” Steve struggled his way into the kitchen and dumped everything on the table. He didn’t know what to tackle first, but he knew he was still craving sugar, bad. Almost like he was on autopilot, Steve located the blender and poured some orange juice inside. He was compelled to mix in the Jolt Cola and handfuls of sugar. “What are you doing?” he asked himself at one point, but he couldn’t stop. It was like his body knew he needed this concoction, even though his brain was thoroughly disgusted. 

Despite his better judgement, Steve tossed a cupcake in as a final touch and then blended it all up. It looked so gross, like muddy sludge, but he had to drink it. And it tasted, surprisingly good. He drank it down like it was water, and his head felt so much better. Maybe he’d discovered a new cure for hangovers? He could market this stuff and make a buck or two.

“I found it!” Marie announced as she entered the kitchen.

Steve turned around and she presented him with a book, Along Came a Dog. Steve hadn’t thought about that book in years, but his mind was instantly filled with pleasant memories and he felt all warm inside. “I loved this book. Where did you find this?” He carefully took the book from her.

“In a glass case back there with some other first editions.”

“That’s right,” Steve recalled. His parents had bought this first edition for him, but then they added it to their collection, and he wasn’t allowed to touch it, much less read it. And that right there summed up their parenting. 

“The book is so pristine. Has it ever been read?”

“No, I don’t think I ever read this copy.”

“What’s it about?”

“A dog becomes friends with a chicken, but it’s really exciting,” he hurried to add.

“Maybe you could read it to me?”

“I would love that.” Steve smiled and she smiled in return. He leaned in slowly and they kissed. The static was gone completely now, and he was starting to feel good.

“You taste like oranges and chocolate,” Marie murmured, then her eyes got wide like something had caught her by surprise.

“What?”

“You taste like oranges and chocolate.” She kissed him again and then again after that.

“I, uh, can offer you some, and then we can read.”

“Can we read later? There’s something else I’d like to do first.” Marie shuffled her feet nervously on the linoleum, and Steve would do anything for her, anything.

“What?”

Marie looked him in the eyes. “Show me Hawkins. I want to see all of it.”


	12. Out on the Town

Chapter Eleven

November 9, 1985

Out on the Town

“Yeah, we can do that,” Steve agreed. “But first, I need to do something about this.” He gestured to the mess that was his hair.

Thirty minutes later, he was wiping the condensation from his bathroom mirror. He’d set Marie up with everything she needed to use the guest bathroom, if she wanted to. He’d also dug through his Mom’s closet and found some things that might fit her.

There was a slight knock on the door. “Steve?”

Steve quickly grabbed his shirt and pulled it on. He opened the door and there was Marie. She was still wearing the same dress, but she looked beautiful as ever.

“Do you need anything?” He didn’t know why he was suddenly feeling so shy around her. She’d already spent the night in his room.

“No, just waiting on you.”

“Right, let me dry my hair, and we’re good to go.” He picked up his blow dryer and plugged it in. Marie leaned against the door. “Are you going to watch me?”

“Yes.” She smiled.

Steve blushed and turned the hair dryer on. The sight of her standing behind him in the mirror filled him with joy, and he dared to imagine a future where this was a daily occurrence.

“That device is so loud,” Marie commented as he finished.

“Yeah, I need to get a new one.” Steve brushed his hair out and selected a spray from his stash of hair care products.

Marie joined him at the counter and put her hand lightly on his wrist. “I still think you should slick your hair back.”

Steve hesitated. “I don’t know.” He set the can of spray down but didn’t let it go.

“You don’t need that stuff, or that other stuff.” Marie pointed to his hair care collection.

“My hair is very temperamental,” Steve explained. “It has to be tamed, trust me.”

“You don’t need that stuff, trust me,” Marie countered.

The hair spray can shot out of Steve’s hand and clattered into the marble backsplash. “How did that happen?” He looked down and noticed the counter was still damp from his shower. “Guess it slid.”

Marie gently touched his jaw and drew his attention back to her. “Trust me,” she repeated. She located his comb on the counter and began to pull it through his hair. Steve was glad he had a handhold on the counter, because he was completely weak in the knees. Marie smiled at him, and he smiled back. His hair was his pride and joy, but Marie had asked him to trust her, and he was going to.

By the time they finally made it downtown, it was going on 4:00. It was the first, gray day in November, and there weren’t many people out and about. It was the lull between fall and the Holidays, but soon these streets would be packed, especially now that the mall was no more. Steve kind of liked that there weren’t that many people around. The two of them had their own, private world.

Steve pointed out the sights, as best he could as they walked down the main drag. Marie asked about the history of the buildings, and when they were built. Some of them had cornerstones, which was helpful, but Steve was embarrassed to say he didn’t really know much about the town he grew up in, besides the terrible, top secret things no one was supposed to know about. Marie didn’t seem upset with his lack of knowledge, though. She was smiling from ear to ear, and Steve wished this moment could go on forever.

Marie held on to his hand. She had waited years to walk this street. Her soldier, the one from so long ago, he’d promised he’d bring her here. That had never happened. She thought she’d be trapped in that house forever, but Steve had rescued her. For a moment, Marie wondered what the street had looked like in 1918. But that didn’t matter, not anymore. She had this chance now, and she wasn’t going to let anything take it away from her.

“Are you cold?”

Marie shook her head no. Steve had insisted she wear his mother’s jacket. It was a strange material that made an odd, crunching noise every time she moved. It was not her idea of style at all, but Steve had offered it to her, and she’d accepted. “A fair knight offered me his cape. I am content.” She squeezed his hand.

Steve felt emboldened. He carefully wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. Marie folded into his side naturally. It was perfect, except for the crunch of her jacket. “Is there something you want to do?”

Marie considered it. Way back, her soldier had spoken of a theatre. He’d promised to take her to see the shows. Sometimes there were animals that did tricks, sometimes there was Shakespeare. “I’d like to go to the theatre.”

Steve checked his watch. “Yeah, we should be able to catch a movie.”

Marie beamed. “Maybe they have the dog show today, or some Shakespeare?”

“They have what?” Steve was confused.

Across the street, Max, Lucas, and Mike sorted through the bins at Cosmic Comics. The continued survival of the hometown, comic bookstore was one of the best things about Main Street not going under. “What about this one?” Lucas held up a plastic encased issue for Mike’s approval.

“No, he has that one.”

“Man.” Lucas sighed and shoved the comic back into the box.

“Seriously, guys, just pick one.” Max put down the comic she’d been halfheartedly flipping through. They’d been here for two hours. She was over it.

“This care package was your idea,” Mike reminded her.

“I thought we’d grab Dustin’s favorite things, make a nice arrangement, and take it to him,” she sighed. “This is the last gesture of goodwill I make, believe me.”

“The right comic book makes or breaks the gesture.” Lucas pulled another comic out triumphantly, but Mike shot it down as well.

“How about another turtle?” he asked.

“Pet store’s still closed,” Lucas pointed out.

“We don’t have turtle money,” Max added.

Mike stepped back and huffed. “We should’ve been prepping for this in advance. We all knew Suzy was going to break up with him eventually.” Lucas nodded.

“That’s rude,” Max remarked.

“What, did you see them spending their lives together?” Lucas asked.

“No,” she conceded. Max looked out the window. She could see Steve walking down the street. “Hey, there’s Steve. We can ask him. He’s tight with Dustin.”

“He’s annoying,” Mike added.

Max ignored him and knocked on the window, trying to get Steve’s attention. He seemed to be busy talking to someone, but there was no one around him. Also, what was he wearing? “That’s a woman’s jacket,” Max commented.

“What?” Lucas asked with disinterest, not looking up from the bin he was digging through.

“Steve is wearing a woman’s jacket and his, hair . . .” Max stopped, not sure what else to say. Steve never wore his hair slicked back like that. “Who is he talking to?” she whispered to herself. Really, there was no one near him, but he was clearly having a conversation with someone. And why was he clenching his hand like that? “Something’s weird.” She looked back at Mike and Lucas, but they couldn’t be bothered.

“Steve is weird. He dated my sister.”

“Your sister is a powerhouse,” Max countered.

“Hey, kids, we close in thirty minutes,” the owner barked from the front of the store.

“It’s Saturday,” Lucas protested.

The owner pointed to the gray world outside. “Do you see the masses swarming in here? I don’t. Pick your comics and let’s go.”

“Maybe you can help us.” Lucas walked up to the counter and Mike followed. “We’re looking for a comic for a friend of ours, something that says we’re sorry your nerdy, Mormon girlfriend broke up with you.”

Max rolled her eyes and looked back out the window. By the time she looked back, Steve had moved on down the sidewalk, heading for the old movie theater.

It had taken Steve a moment to realize Marie was talking about a theatre where they put on live shows. As far as Steve could remember, there had never been a theatre like that on Main Street. He thought there might be a community theatre in the area, but he wasn’t even sure about that. He wasn’t very cultured, he guessed.

The big movie plex had burned down with the mall, and the nearest movie theater was a bit of a drive right now. But there was that old theater on Main Street. They showed classic movies on the weekends and other, ahem, special movies after dark sometimes, but Steve was pretty sure they were still in the acceptable window of time.

He took her hand in his again and lead the way. The old theater was showing Casablanca, which was fine with Steve. It didn’t really matter what they were playing, if he was with Marie. They didn’t have concessions, but that was all right, too. Marie was clearly enjoying herself. She held onto Steve’s arm tight and jumped anytime something unexpected happened on the screen. It was almost like this was the first movie she’d ever seen, and Steve watched her more than the action on the screen. Near the end of the film, she leaned her head on his shoulder, and he rested his head atop hers. He kissed her hairline softly. This was the best date he’d ever been on.

This wasn’t quite the show Marie had been expecting. She didn’t really know what to make of the movie, but she loved having Steve beside her. He’d taken her all the places she’d been waiting to go for 67 years.

When the movie was over, they filtered back out on the street. Evening was falling and the streetlights were starting to come on. Marie gasped. “What?” Steve looked at her expression of awe.

Marie didn’t answer him. She let go of his hand and ran out to touch the nearest light. Her soldier had told her about this. Marie grabbed the nearest light post and swung herself around it with a laugh. She ran to the next one and did the same. She went down the street like this and Steve followed her, a smile permanently plastered to his face. Being with her was like seeing Hawkins for the first time.

When she was halfway down the street, Marie suddenly stopped. They hadn’t gone this way yet, and there was a large statue between her and the next streetlight. She was about to dart around it, but her feet faltered when she read the name on the statue. “Quincy Mooregrove, founder of modern Hawkins.” Marie looked up, and there was her father. He looked stern and standoffish, just as she remembered him. “His benevolence lives on and continues to illuminate the way,” she read on the bronze plaque. A rage she hadn’t felt in many years began to grow inside her.

Across the street, Robin hurried to her group project meeting at the Hawkins Diner. She hated group projects. To make it worse, she was running late to the first meeting. They were going to think she was that member, the weak one, when she was probably going to end up doing everything. Her only saving grace was that her friend Devin was in her group, too. At least she could count on him to pull his share of the weight.

Robin looked up and saw Steve. What was he doing? Swinging around light poles? It was odd to watch, but it made her smile. And what had he done to his hair? She was about to call out to him, ask him how his bake sale went, when he stopped swinging around the poles. He came to an abrupt halt in front of the Mooregrove statue. Robin’s witty remark died in her throat at the look on his face. He was half obscured in shadow, but he looked mad, livid even.

“Robin, get in here!” Devin hung out of the Diner’s door. “Their idea is already heinous,” he hissed.

“Coming.” Robin looked back across the street and Steve was still standing there, scowling. She made a mental note to check on that later and hurried into the Diner. 

Marie wished she could burn the words off the plaque. She wished she could melt the entire statute. The plaque began to creak and grown and suddenly it was pulled out of the brick base of the statute. It landed on the sidewalk with a thud and Steve shouted and jerked back.

How had they gotten to this part of the street? He looked down. What was that plaque doing on the ground? He looked up at the statue. “Mr. Mooregrove?” He didn’t know there was a statue of the Mooregrove patriarch on Main Street. He was a terrible tour guide.

Steve felt something trickling down his face. He reached up under his nose and his hand came away bloody. “What the . . .?”

“Are you all right?” Marie turned his face into the streetlight to get a better look.

“Yeah, just a nosebleed.” He couldn’t remember the last time he had one of these. How had it even started?

Steve fished around in his pockets, and fortunately there was an old napkin. He pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned his head back. He thought they had been having a good night. He’d been pretty sure of that, but now he just felt sad and angry, which was weird. He kind of wanted to punch something or someone.

He looked at Marie. “Did that movie make you angry or sad?”

“It was sad they couldn’t stay together.”

“Yeah, damn Nazis.” Steve looked at the napkin. It appeared his nose bleed had stopped.

“Are you sad?” Marie asked.

Steve pulled her close. “No, I’m with you. Come on.” He took her hand. “Watch out for that,” he gestured to the fallen plaque as they continued down the street.

Marie held onto his arm. “What makes you happy, Steve?”

"You, and driving my car."

"I've never driven a car before," she spoke up.

Twenty minutes later, they were back in his car in the empty municipal parking lot. “Okay, now slowly take your foot off the brake.”

Marie nervously released her foot and the car started to inch forward.

“You can give it a little gas,” Steve assured her.

Marie did as instructed and the car lurched forward. She screamed and slammed on the brake, causing them to lurch again. “I’m sorry. I’m going to ruin your automobile.”

Steve laughed. “No, it’s all right, you’ll get it. Let’s try again.” He couldn’t believe Marie didn’t know how to drive, but she had mentioned that she’d led a very sheltered life.

They lurched again and another car pulled into the parking lot. Steve recognized that car. “Shit, switch places with me.” In retrospect, they shouldn’t have done this lesson within sight of the police station.

Officer Powell got out of his car and walked up to the window. Steve rolled it down and smiled pleasantly. “Having car trouble, Harrington?” the officer asked.

“Yeah, a little, but I got it figured out now. Thanks for checking on us, Officer Powell.” He looked at Marie. “We’ll, uh, head home now.”

Officer Powell looked inside the car. “Uh huh,” he muttered. He held Steve in his gaze a moment longer. “Take it easy, all right?”

“Yes, sir.” Steve nodded and slowly pulled away.

Officer Powell watched until Steve was out of the parking lot and down the road before turning off his car and returning to the station. As soon as he walked in, Nancy Wheeler was on him. “Not now, Miss Wheeler.”

“You told me to come back after dinner,” she protested.

“I told her we still didn’t have anything,” Officer Callahan spoke up from his desk.

“There has to be something,” Nancy insisted.

“Sometimes there’s no news, Nancy,” Officer Powell shut her down. “Sometimes Hawkins is boring.”

“Except when the mall burns down, or the mayor gets indicted,” Callahan muttered.

“Everything exciting has already happened. So, good night.” Nancy made to open her mouth again, but Officer Powell persisted. “I said good night.”

Nancy resigned herself to collect her notebook and go. “Who was in the parking lot?” Callahan asked as Powell took his jacket off.

“Harrington.”

“What was he doing?”

“Acting stupid. Probably snorting cocaine, something like that.”

Nancy stopped, her hand on the station door.

“You didn’t bring him in?” Callahan asked.

“You want to bring in Phil Harrington’s son?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so.” Powell sat in his office chair and leaned back. He saw Nancy was still hesitating at the door. “Good night, Nancy.”

On down the road, Steve’s car drove through the night. He laughed; despite the close call they had just had. “Oh man.” He looked at Marie, but she wasn’t laughing. She was looking at her hands and she seemed sad. Suddenly the cab of the car felt very cold. “Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t get me in trouble.” Steve reached out and touched her arm.

  
Marie kept looking at her hands. That police officer hadn’t seen her. She didn’t know why she hadn’t realized it sooner. She’d been so caught up in the magic of the day, that she’d forgotten the reality of her situation.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked.

Marie put her hands down. She was far from all right, but how could she tell him that? “Let’s go home,” she spoke, her voice small.

Steve held the front door for her as they returned to his house. She still seemed sad. “Marie, about tonight . . .” he began.

Marie turned and put her finger against his mouth. “Read to me?” she asked. All concerns with anything else were forgotten as the two of them cuddled up on the couch and Steve introduced her to Along Came a Dog.

Later that night, when his eyes were crossing with every other word, he decided they should go to sleep. This presented a new challenge, though. “You don’t have to sleep in that chair tonight,” he assured her. “There’s my mom’s room, or the first guest room, or the second guest room. The couch folds out, too.” 

Marie stood up and looked around her. “You live alone in a house of empty rooms.”

Steve was about to protest that sometimes his parents were home, but no, she was right. “Yeah, I do,” he replied.

“Me, too,” she whispered. Marie held out her hands and he accepted them. Every time they touched; Steve swore he could feel sparks. “Let’s make a promise, we’ll never live alone in empty rooms ever again.”

His heart bursting, Steve stood up and took her into his arms. “I promise.”

She ended up in his bed that night, snuggled up by his side. Steve had never been so happy in his life. He was sure his dreams would be nothing but beautiful, but they were surprisingly full of locked doors, empty rooms, long hallways, and blurry faces he didn’t quite recognize. In these dreams he was sad, almost to the point of depression, or he was mad, so mad he might have been able to kill another person. He’d wake from these dreams sometimes, either too hot or too cold. But then Marie would be there with a loving touch. She’d stroke his hair and face, and that was nice. As long as she was there, Steve was sure he was safe.


	13. Dancing in the Street

Chapter Twelve

November 10, 1985

Dancing in the Street

Sunday was another gray day with an even lower chance of sun. It wasn’t really a park-going day, but Steve didn’t mind. He’d sit in a park in the middle of the apocalypse, if he was with Marie. She was a steady presence on the bench by his side, knees drawn up and her legs curled beneath her. She looked so comfortable. He felt so comfortable. The day had started out kind of iffy, with that static back in his head, but his unusual concoction of sugar and caffeine had sent it packing.

Steve sighed in contentment, which was something he hadn’t done in a loooonnngggg time. He looked over at Marie. Along Came a Dog was sitting on her lap and she was turning the book carefully as she wrote tiny notes in the margins. “My parents are going to kill me if they ever see that,” Steve quipped. Marie looked up concerned. “Joking, it was a joke. They won’t even notice it’s missing from that case, trust me.”

He leaned his head back and basked in the sun that wasn’t there. Maybe he was just basking in the moment? 

Marie held up the book and admired her handy work. “What are you writing?”

She clutched it to her chest and away from Steve’s prying eyes. “It’s for you to read later.”

There was a sudden lump in his throat. “After you’ve gone home?”

Marie put the book down and looked out at the scenery. “Later,” she repeated. That wasn’t an answer, not really, but Steve decided not to press the issue. She leaned into his side and everything was right with the world again.

The park was pretty much deserted. Gray Sundays weren’t banner park-going days in Hawkins, Indiana. The only people in eyesight were some kids up the hill playing with a shopping cart they’d probably stolen. They seemed to be filling it with rocks. 

“Oh!” Marie exclaimed and sat up. She opened the book quickly and started to write again. “I forgot something.”

Steve smirked. “Let me guess, Steve is the handsomest, strongest, awesomemest guy I’ve ever met?”

Marie nudged him away as he tried to pear over her shoulder. “Stop, you’re going to make me mess up. This is ink.”

“Don’t forget to mention my hair in there.” Steve ran his had over his hair instead of through. He really didn’t mind it slicked back, despite his earlier protestations.

Across the open expanse of greenish brown, Claudia Henderson and her son Dustin entered the park. One of them was more excited than the other. “Oh, Dusty, stop moping,” his mother cajoled him. 

“I’m not moping. I’m heart broken, there’s a difference.” Dustin sniffled and ran his hand under his nose.

“I know it feels that way now, honey, but it will get better, I promise.” She rested a hand on his shoulder in comfort. Her other hand held fast to the leash of their portly tabby named Tews.

“Did we have to bring the cat?”

“He needs the exercise, and it’s good socialization for him,” his mother defended.

“Mom, he’s a cat. No one walks their cat on a leash.”

“Pish, that’s not true.”

Dustin sighed. At least the park was empty. No one was here to see this embarrassment. “I’m never getting another girlfriend,” Dustin muttered as he looked from his mother to the grumpy cat on the neon leash.

“Go, enjoy the day,” his mother encouraged. “You have to get out and do things, Dusty.”

“I did things yesterday.”

“You sulked in your room until your friends came over and brought you that nice gift basket.”

The gift basket had been sweet, and it was nice to know his friends were thinking about him. What he couldn’t understand was why he hadn’t heard from Steve. He’d been trying, but all he got was radio silence. Mike, Lucas, and Max were great and all, but he really wanted to talk to Steve about this. He’d been there for every other relationship milestone in Dustin’s life. Now Dusting had hit a major speed bump and suddenly his mentor was out of touch.

“Go, walk around, get the endorphins going.”

Dustin kicked at the dirt on the path with his feet. He walked a few steps slowly and looked up. There was a bench up ahead, and wouldn’t you know it, the person he wanted to speak to most in the world was sitting right there. Steve didn’t see Dustin. He was too engrossed in whatever book he was writing in.

“Steve! Mom, look, it’s Steve!”

“Oh, that’s nice, dear.” Suddenly Tews took off after a bird, taking Claudia with him. “Tews, slow down!”

“I’m going over here!” Dustin called, practically running the other way, running to his friend. “Steve!”

The older boy finally looked up from his book, and his first reaction was a smile. Dustin was clumsily making his way over. Steve really didn’t want his time with Marie interrupted, but he was still happy to see the kid. He’d meant to radio Dustin back, he really had, but that was before Marie decided to sleepover. Since she’d been in the house, he’d unplugged the radio, and removed the batteries. He felt a little guilty about it, but he didn’t know how much time he’d have with Marie. Maybe it was better this way. Marie and Dustin could finally meet.

Steve waved at Dustin and looked to Marie. “That’s my friend. You should meet . . .” Steve’s words died in his throat. Marie looked absolutely panicked, completely freaked.

“I’m not ready to meet anyone!”

“He’s really nice, super goofy. You’ll love him.”

“No!” Marie stood up quickly and practically disappeared behind the nearest tree. Steve was so confused, and to make matters worse, that stupid static was coming back.

“Steve, there you are! You haven’t returned my calls,” Dustin accosted after he caught his breath. “What gives?”

Steve really wanted to go and check on Marie but turned his attention to Dustin. “Uh, sorry. I’ve been busy.”

Dustin started to say something else, but he was distracted by his friend’s current appearance. “What’d you do to your hair?”

Steve ran his hand self consciously over his head. “Trying something new.”

“Is that your mom’s jacket?”

“What? No.” Steve was getting impatient. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Dustin took a breath and swallowed the sudden rush of emotions that threatened to knock him over. “Suzy broke up with me.”

“Oh, shit, kid, I’m sorry.” Steve felt his heart crack for the boy, and he felt even worse about not radioing him back. But there were these other feelings creeping up inside him. He was unusually anxious. He kind of wanted to jump off the bench himself. 

“I sent her the book, like you said, and she thought it was great, but . . .” Dustin started to explain. Steve tried to listen, he really did, but the static was getting worse. On top of it, his anxiety was turning to annoyance. There was a voice at the back of his mind, and it really wanted Dustin to shut up.

The sky had gotten grayer. This was more than early winter gray. This was a storm moving in. Steve was suddenly hyper aware of every sound. He could hear Dustin going on and on. He could hear the thunder rumbling not far off. He could hear Claudia Henderson trying to convince her cat to come out of a tree. He could hear those stupid kids up the hill pushing their stupid cart full of rocks. How he could hear all that through the growing static made no sense.

And why was Dustin still talking? “Get rid of him,” the voice in the back of his mind insisted. “Get rid of him.”

“Dustin!” Steve snapped. “It’s over, right?!”

The boy faltered. “Yeah,” he finally spoke, his voice no more than a whisper.

“Then it’s over,” Steve emphasized.

Dustin didn’t know what to say. His heart was somewhere in his feet and he felt sick to his stomach. 

The thunder rumbled again, so much closer now. “Dustin! I need your help!” Claudia Henderson called out. “Oh, Tews, get down from there!”

Mrs. Henderson’s shout brought Steve back to the present in a way he hadn’t been the moment before. What had he said to Dustin? He didn’t think it had been very nice, not with the way the kid was looking at him. “I’ll, uh, call you later.”

“Right,” Dustin muttered, disdain obvious in his tone.

“Dustin, it’s going to rain and Tews is up a tree! Hello, Steve!” She waved. “My cat is in the tree!”

Steve awkwardly waved back and stood. He needed to check on Marie, and they needed to go. He felt this overwhelming urge to get out of there, to go home. “Coming Mother!” Dustin called and turned away from his friend.

Steve turned and walked the other direction, still not sure what had happened back there. Where was Marie? She had ducked behind that tree, right? 

“Watch out!” This shout came from up the hill from those other kids. Steve looked up just in time to see the shopping cart loaded with rocks come barreling towards him. He held up his hands. The cart shot off to the side, as if deflected by an invisible shield. It flipped several times, spilling its contents and rolling across the grass.

Dustin turned just in time to see the cart shoot off its original trajectory and roll. “Holy shit!” He was about to run and check on his friend, but his mother called his name a fourth time. Dustin watched as Steve examined his hands. He saw the boys up the hill running the other way. He saw Steve flick his hand and he could swear one of those boys took a face plant, almost like he’d been pushed.

“Watch what you’re doing, you juveniles!” Steve shouted after the retreating boys.

“DUSTIN!” his mother persisted, about to explode.

“All right! Everyone knows where the cat is!” Dustin ran over to her.

“What was all that about?” she asked as Dustin started to shimmy up the tree after their wayward cat. “Steve could have stuck around and helped us.”

“He’s, uh, got something going on.” But what it was, Dustin couldn’t say. 

“That shopping cart could have hit you,” Marie spoke. She was by Steve’s side again, and he could not remember how she got there. 

Steve looked at the overturned cart. “That would’ve been bad, right?”

Marie looked concerned and pointed to his nose.

“What?” Steve reached up and found he had another nosebleed. “Damnit.” He pinched his nose. “Must be the season change or something.”

The thunder rumbled, so much closer now. Tiny drops of rain started to fall from the sky. “Come on, let’s go home.” Marie took his free hand and led him forward. Steve looked across the park to where Dustin was handing his cat down to his mom. He should go and help them, he really should, but the thought of home was an all consuming need that kept him moving forward.

Once they were back at home, Steve got himself cleaned up. He made another of his smoothies, and everything was much better. He ordered some pizza, and the two of them weathered the rain from the comfort of his living room. They read to each other off and on and they talked. It was like they were back at Mooregrove Manor, so comfortable and easy with one another.

“Tell me about your friends?” Marie asked at one point, and the conversation took on a different feel.

“What about them?”

She rested her head on her knees. What was the look in her eyes? Steve couldn’t place it. It wasn’t quite jealousy, and it wasn’t quite sadness. It was somewhere between. 

“They obviously mean a lot to you. Tell me about them.”

And Steve did. He told her about Dustin and the rest of the gang. He told her about Nancy and Jonathan and Robin. He didn’t tell her the scary parts, about the Upside Down, but he told her about their crazy, awkward lives and how they were all connected. She watched him intently, her expression resuming that fondness he loved so much. Talking about his friends energized Steve in a way few things did. Marie was right. They did mean a lot to him, as messed up as they all were.

Some hours later, the rain had stopped, and the sun had set. They were laying on the living room floor, their fingertips lightly touching in the air above them. “Have you ever considered leaving here, Steve?”

He took her hand and craned his head back so he could see her better. “Maybe. If it involved, you.”

Marie blushed. She did it so rarely, and Steve couldn’t get enough of it. “Where would we go?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Anywhere we wanted to. We’re adults, right?”

“Just leave? Just go?” Marie spoke the words as if no sweeter ones had ever passed her lips.

“Yeah, I’ve got some money. I’ve got a car. Parents, who needs ‘em?”

“Who needs ‘em?” she repeated.

Steve held her hand tighter. “I would go anywhere with you.”

Marie broke their eye contact before her face betrayed her true emotions. She stood and walked to the window. Steve sat up and looked after her. What was she thinking?

“The street is shining,” she spoke. He had not been expecting that.

“What?”

“Under the light, the street looks like diamonds.”

He joined her at the window and looked out. “It’s because it’s wet.”

“No, it’s magic.” Marie took his hand and lead him out the door. She took him to the middle of the street. It was Sunday night, so no one was out.

Marie stood under the streetlight and began to twirl and dance. Steve had never seen anything so beautiful in all his life. He didn’t know what his future involved, but he knew it had to include this girl.

A block away, Dustin and Mike rode their bikes. Max and Lucas had a date, but Mike told Dustin he’d go out and ride with him. They had about thirty more minutes until curfew. “Maybe she’ll change her mind?” Mike reasoned.

Dustin shook his head. “No, it’s over. There’s too much distance.”

“El and I make it work, and there’s distance there. You just gotta keep at it.”

Dustin sighed. “There’s also Todd.”

“Todd?”

“The Mormon kid who invited her to her school's winter formal.”

“Ouch.”

“Meanwhile, I roll into the Snow Ball looking like a complete loser, per usual.”

“It’s not like Suzy would’ve been there anyhow,” Mike pointed out.

“Yeah, but I would’ve known I had a girlfriend. Now it’s different. Now I’m single and pathetic, yet again.”

Mike clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re not pathetic.”

“Thanks. Come on, let’s finish this route and head home.”

They road on to the end of the block and skidded to a stop. There before them was a most unexpected sight, Steve Harrington dancing in the middle of the street. They watched in shocked silence for a moment.

“Your friend’s on drugs, Dustin,” Mike spoke at last. He turned his bike back towards home. Mike started to ride off, but Dustin lingered. He watched Steve, a terrible unease creeping up inside him. Dustin waited only a second more before turning and following Mike.

Under the streetlight, Marie danced on until the rain returned out of nowhere, moving swiftly down the asphalt. Steve took her hand and they ran for the door laughing. He held his hands over her head. “I shall shield you, my lady.” 

“How chivalrous.” 

He opened the door quickly and they tumbled back into the house. “I saved you.”

“My hero!” Marie clutched dramatically at her chest.

“But what ho, m’lady, look out! The floor, it is lava!”

“What?” She looked down, breaking their cadence.

“It’s a game. The floor is made of lava. You never played before?”

Marie recovered quickly. “What shall we do, my knight?”

“Quick, take my hand!” Steve grabbed her hand and pulled her up onto the couch. “Follow me, my lady!” He held her tight as they stepped from the couch to the coffee table. They made their way around the room, laughing the whole way. Steve felt light as a feather as he jumped from one piece of furniture to the next. He wasn’t sure his feet would touch the ground, even if they were standing on it.

Steve jumped with ease to his parents tacky, bean bag chair from the 1970s. Somehow, it didn’t burst, but there wasn’t room on the chair for two people to stand side by side.

“What do I do, oh knight?” Marie asked as she assessed the situation.

“Jump, m’lady! I’ll catch you.” Steve held out his arms and she jumped. He caught her. Her legs went around his waist, her arms were around his shoulders, and her face was right there in front of his. 

“I love you,” he told her with no hesitation. He’d said that word so casually before. But right here, right now, he meant it. “I love you,” Steve repeated. 

Marie’s face broke beautifully, and she melted into him. “I love you, too.”

Steve felt like he could scale the highest mountain or swim the longest ocean. Life was thrumming through his veins and he felt invincible. He kissed her, deep and hard. The lights in the house brightened around them as the power surged and went out.


	14. Battery Running Low

Chapter Thirteen

November 11, 1985

Battery Running Low

It was Monday morning, and the first thing Steve needed to do was vomit, or maybe he needed to pass out and go back to sleep, or maybe he needed to curl up and die. He wasn’t sure which need was more pressing, but he knew he felt awful. He felt worse than he had on Saturday after he’d drank all that wine the night before. This was the worst he’d felt in a long time. Everything hurt. Everything was too bright and too loud, and his whole body was numb. He felt completely drained, but if he was going to vomit, he needed to get out of bed and get to the bathroom.

Steve stumbled down the hallway. He could barely stay on his feet. His vision kept going in and out, and that couldn’t be good. Last night had been good, really good, and it didn’t even matter that the power had gone out for a while. (In fact, that kind of improved the mood.) He’d been the happiest he’d ever been in his life last night. Those weird, unsettling dreams had come back when he’d finally succumbed to sleep, but Marie was still there, and if she was there, all was right with the world.

But now something was wrong, very wrong. Steve stumbled and grabbed onto the door jam. At least he was almost to the bathroom. No, wait, he was going down. Steve slid down the wall, taking at least one work of art that had been hanging up with him. 

“Steve,” Marie’s voice sounded weird and distorted.

He forced himself to look up. She was still down the hall, standing outside the bedroom. “I think I have a bug. Don’t – don’t come any closer. I don’t wanna get you sick.”

Marie was looking at her hands. She looked upset, and through Steve’s blurry vision, it almost looked like she was fading in and out. “When do you go back to work?” she suddenly demanded. “Do you go back today?!”

It took Steve a moment to answer. His brain was so fuzzy. “No, got an extra day.” He slumped further over. If he hit the floor, he probably wasn’t getting up for a while.

Marie choked out a sob. “I can’t wait until then.” 

“Is the room spinning or is it me?”

“I have to go home!” Marie declared.

Steve wanted to argue, but that was probably for the best. He really didn’t want her to get sick. He nodded weakly. 

“Tomorrow, I’ll be at the house. I’ll be there,” she assured.

Steve meant to say goodbye, he really did, but his eyes were so heavy. He blinked once and Marie was gone, and then he was out.

Nancy Wheeler went straight to Steve’s house after school. It was almost four when she pulled into his driveway. His car was there, which meant he was there, which was good. A nagging concern had been growing inside her since Saturday night, and she had to see him for herself. As Nancy got out of her car, an unfamiliar vehicle pulled up along the curb and out stepped Robin. 

“Thanks, Devin.” Robin closed the car’s door and stopped, staring at Nancy as her ride pulled away. “Nancy?”

“Robin?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Checking on Steve. What are you doing here?”

“Checking on Steve.”

Nancy considered the other girl as she approached. “What have you heard?”

“I haven’t heard anything, but I saw him Saturday night and, I don’t know. I just wanna check. What have you heard?”

Nancy was about to answer when Dustin swerved his bike into the driveway and practically jumped off it as it screeched to a halt. He looked up at them both. “What are you all doing here?” he asked.

“Now I’m really concerned,” Robin commented.

Nancy took a breath and rang the doorbell. “What’s going on?” Dustin whispered to Robin.

“Why are you here?” she wanted to know.

“I saw Steve in the park yesterday,” Dustin began, “and . . .”

“He was acting, weird, right?” Robin finished for him.

“Weird is an understatement.”

Nancy rang the bell again with more force. “Steve?!” She pounded on the door. “Steve?!” 

No answer.

“What now?” Robin asked. “Is there a back way in?”

“Oh, I have a key!” Dustin remembered. He made his way to the front door and fished for the key in his fanny pack.

“He gave you a key?” Nancy asked, shock in her voice.

“Why, he never gave you one?” Robin quipped. 

“No,” she replied, somewhat incredulously.

Dustin managed to open the door. “We’re in.”

Robin pushed ahead and opened the door. “Steve?! We’re coming in! I hope you have clothes on!”

The three of them walked into the house and closed the door. The furniture was all askew in the living room, like someone had been pushing it around. “Steve?!” Dustin called. They moved into the kitchen, and it was a wreck. There was food stuff everywhere, discarded cans of Jolt Cola on the floor, and trails of sugar running across the counters. 

The blender was on the table with some sort of black substance in it. Robin hesitantly looked inside it and gagged. “Gross.”

Nancy picked the blender up and sniffed. She looked at Robin knowingly and they both looked at Dustin. He was taking stock of the scene, not really paying attention to them. “Should he be here?” Nancy mouthed to Robin.

“Why not?” she mouthed back.

“In case of . . .drugs?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “He’s fourteen, he knows what drugs are.”

They both looked up and Dustin was gone. “I think he’s in the shower!” he called from down the hall. The girls followed him, and sure enough they could hear the shower running through the closed door.

Dustin knocked on the door. “Steve, are you in there?”

Nancy bent down and picked a piece of art up from the floor. She looked down the hall and all the pictures were crooked, like someone had run their hand along the wall as they’d walked by. 

“Steve?!” Dustin tried again. A weak groan answered him this time. “Steve, are you okay?!”

“Go away, I’m sick,” came the slurred reply.

“Steve, it’s Robin. How ‘bout you come out so we can check on you?”

There was silence for a moment, and then, “Don’t think I can.”

“Why not?”

“My legs don’t work right.”

That was concerning. Robin made an executive decision. “Nancy and I are coming in, okay?”

“No, I’m naked,” Steve protested weakly.

“Nancy’s already seen it, and I don’t care.” Nancy gave Robin a look. “What, am I wrong?”

“We’re coming in,” Nancy echoed.

“Go get him some clothes,” Robin told Dustin.

The boy took off down the hall into Steve’s bedroom. The room was a mess, which wasn’t unusual considering whose room it was. The bed sheets and covers were a tangled heap on the floor. Dustin stepped over them and pulled a clean shirt and some sweatpants from the chest of drawers. He refused to dig for underwear, though.

As he closed the drawer, the cluttered desk caught his eye. He walked over and inspected the radio he’d made for Steve, to be sure it was still working. It was unplugged and the batteries were removed, which explained that. Dustin swallowed the hurt in his throat and looked down. There were two books open on the desk. One was newer than the other, but they were both filled with little notes in the margins. The notes were in the same handwriting. Dustin closed the newer one. Along Came a Dog, this looked like the book Steve had been writing in at the park yesterday. But this wasn’t Steve’s handwriting. Dustin started to close the older book, when a set of initials on the inside cover caught his attention, LMM.

“LMM?”

“How ‘bout those clothes, Dustin?” Robin called.

The boy left the books and hurried back out to the bathroom. He passed the clothes to Robin through the door and waited impatiently outside until the girls lead a bedraggled Steve out. He was hanging onto them both, his arms around their shoulders, as they made their way slowly back to the bedroom.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Steve whined. “You’re gonna get sick.”

“Someone has to take care of you,” Nancy pointed out.

“No.” Steve shook his head. “Marie left. Didn’t want her to get sick.”

“Marie?” Dustin asked, and Steve realized he was there for the first time.

“You let Dustin stay?!” He gave the girls accusatory looks. “Now all the kids will get sick. I’m patient zero,” Steve complained as they sat him on the edge of the bed.

Nancy took his face in her hands. “Look at me, okay?” He was warm to the touch, even though he’d been in the shower so long the water had gone cold. She proceeded to look him over, check his eyes and his tongue.

“What are you doing?” he asked her as she prodded at him.

“You have a fever,” she concluded.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Nancy stood up. “I’m going to get you some water and some Ibuprofen, and we’re going to make you something to eat.”

Steve gagged at the thought of food. Not even one of his special smoothies sounded any good. “Just wanna sleep. I’ll be fine. Go home before you get sick.”

“Nope, we’re staying,” Robin assured him.

Nancy moved around the bed, running her hand under the mattress. She was searching for something she hoped she wouldn’t find. Her fingers brushed the well-read magazine. She scrunched her nose and shoved it back, but she didn’t find anything else.

“What are you doing?” Steve complained as her movements jostled the bed.

“Tucking you in.”

“You all are the worst nurses ever.” He curled up on his side on the bed. “Marie would’ve taken good care of me.”

“Who’s Marie?” Dustin asked again.

Steve smiled fondly. “My girlfriend. I gotta get better so I can see her tomorrow. She’s the best.”

“When do we get to meet her?” Robin asked.

“We have the best time together,” Steve rambled on, somewhat delirious. “We walked around Main Street until it got dark, and then yesterday we went to the park.”

Dustin’s stomach dropped into his feet. As Robin kept Steve talking and Nancy continued her not so discreet search of the room, he returned to the desk. He looked back at the old book. LMM, Lillian Mooregrove. What if that middle M stood for Marie? “Shit,” he whispered.

Dustin examined the handwriting in both books side by side. They were the same, no doubt about it. He found another piece of paper on the desk that had Steve’s handwriting. He compared it to the books, and it was different, way different. He didn’t know what this meant, but it probably wasn’t good.

As subtly as he could, Dustin faked a cough and tore a page out of both books. “I told you the kid was gonna get sick,” Steve moaned from the bed.

“I’m okay,” Dustin assured. He folded the pages and tucked them in his pocket.

“We’re gonna get you some water and some meds.” Robin patted Steve on the shoulder and got up. The three of them left the room and returned to the kitchen.

“This house is a mess,” Nancy surmised.

“They don’t have a maid? They’re rich enough.” Robin remarked.

“Phil Harrington is an asshole, and notoriously hard to please,” Nancy replied. “But we could do some cleaning, right? And some looking, for certain things?”

Robin shrugged. “What else do I have to do today?”

“I’m gonna go,” Dustin announced. “I’ll check in later.” He hurried out the front door, leaving the girls behind.

“It’s gotta be hard for him,” Nancy commented, “seeing Steve like this. The kid idolizes him.”

“We don’t know it’s drug related,” Robin argued.

“What else could it be?”

Dustin jumped off his bike and tore into his house. He ran straight to his room, right for his game shelf, and . . .where was it?

“Mom?! Mom!” Dustin shouted as he hunted her down in the kitchen.

Claudia Henderson was on the phone. She held up her hand, indicating that Dustin needed to wait a moment. But there was no time, this was a Code Red. “Mom!” he protested.

Claudia placed her hand over the receiver and gave him a sharp look. “What?”

“Where’s my box, my séance box?”

“Your what?”

He was trying not to blow his lid. “My Madame Z’s séance. It’s black and green. I got it for Halloween.”

“In the garage. Your Aunt Carol is coming for Thanksgiving, and you know she can’t see something like that.”

Dustin huffed in frustration and ran for the garage. He looked around and around until he finally found it, stuffed behind a rusted tackle box. Dustin snatched it up and headed to his room. “Put that back when you’re done, Dusty. Your Aunt will be really upset,” Claudia called as he passed.

“I don’t like people in my room without asking!” Dustin fired back.

“Dustin!” Claudia scolded. He slammed the door to his room for emphasis. “Teenagers,” she commented to her friend through the phone. “He’s gotten so moody, I swear.”

Dustin dumped the box out on his bed and quickly picked up the instruction book. He flipped to the séance part. Maybe he was wrong, maybe this had nothing to do with Halloween night. Ghosts weren’t even real, right? But then again, alternate universes and monsters were real, so anything was fair game. And he couldn’t get the way Steve looked that night out of his head. The way he’d been standing in that third-floor room after they’d finished their seance. He’d looked like a zombie. 

But nothing had happened in the Rose Room, his mind protested. That was the so-called epicenter, right? “When conducting your séance, remember the epicenter is not always the point of death,” he read. “Sometimes the strongest connection to the dead can be found where the most life occurred.” Crap, he’d done a terrible job of skimming this. This is why he’d gotten a D on his book report on the Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

Where had Steve been standing when they’d found him? In the bedroom, in Lillian Mooregrove’s bedroom. She was sick a lot, she probably spent a lot of time in her room. “Shit.”

“Do not include anyone in your séance who may have a strong connection to the deceased. The chance of possession is higher when certain similarities occur,” Dustin read on. There was a list of similarities to look out for. “Closeness of age, shared sense of loneliness, similar life experiences.” 

Lillian Mooregrove had died at the age of 18, right? Steve was 19. He spent a lot of time alone at home, in his big house. Lillian probably spent a lot of time at home, in her big house. “Oh, they’re both lonely rich kids,” Dustin moaned. And Steve had been alone in Mooregrove Manor for weeks now. 

Dustin read on. “Possession is a serious side effect and potential risk of any séance. If you suspect someone has been possessed, keep a watch for these symptoms. Odd behavior, dressing in strange clothes, trying new hairstyles, craving large amounts of sugar, talking to themselves. In rare cases, potential telekinetic abilities.” The list went on and Dustin could pretty much check off everything on it.

“Shit,” he repeated. This was bad, this was really bad. What was he supposed to do about this? He flipped through the book, searching for solutions, but there weren’t any. There was only this sentence. “If you suspect someone has been possessed by the spirit of a deceased individual, please purchase I’ve Been Possessed, Now What? by Madame Z.” Dustin fought the urge to hurl the book across the room. “Are you serious?!”

There was a large warning on the next page, and Dustin felt sick all over as he read it. “Warning, possession is an energy transfer between someone currently alive and someone formerly alive. The deceased use the living like a battery, but that can only be sustained for so long. Eventually, the battery will run out.”


	15. It’s a Great Party Trick, But . . .

Chapter Fourteen

November 11, 1985

It’s a Great Party Trick, but . . .

Dustin pulled his bike up to the curb and jumped off. He looked from the note in his hand to the address in front of him. 113 West Main Street, this was it, but it certainly didn’t look like the establishment of Madame Z. It looked like a salon. Dustin looked up and down the street, not sure of what to do. A worker stepped out of the salon to smoke a cigarette. She eyed Dustin. “You here for the kook?”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s back there.” The worker gestured to the alley and lit up her cigarette.

Dustin looked down the alley. It certainly didn’t look like anywhere he wanted to go, especially with it getting dark. “Is it safe?” he asked.

The salon worker shrugged. “No one’s died yet.”

That was encouraging, at least, and Dustin had been worse places. What was a poorly lit, trashy alley in the grand scheme of things? Dustin wheeled his bike down the alley. Sure enough, there was a door next to the dumpster. It read 113 ½ West Main Street. Madame Z’s Emporium of Mystery was painted on the door in fading green letters. That looked less than professional. A mailbox attached to the wall was crammed full, and Dustin could make out what looked like an overdue bill sticking out of the top of it. That looked even less professional.

Whatever, Dustin had come this far. He was here for answers, and he was going to get them. He pounded on the door. No answer. He pounded on the door again. Still no answer. The girl from the salon watched him down the alley. She finished her cigarette and stomped on the butt. “Hey, Myrtle, you got a customer!” she screamed up.

“Myrtle?” Dustin mused to himself. He heard a loud commotion coming down the stairs behind the door, and then the door opened with a flurry of activity. Dustin jerked back a little.

A woman in a flowing, black dress with an emerald head scarf was standing before him. She held a large, crystal ball. Here heavily made up eyes stared intently into the ball as she ran her hands around it. “You have come here seeking answers. Only Madame Z knows the truth.” She looked down at Dustin for the first time and her demeanor instantly changed. “What do you want? Did you come here to laugh at me, leave some flaming dog shit in front of my door?!”

Dustin was taken aback. “No. I came here seeking answers, like you said.”

She scoffed. “Do you even have any money?”

“What?”

“It’s $50 to cross my door, kid.”

It was Dustin’s turn to scoff. “$50?!”

“Just as I thought. I have a business to run.”

Dustin hurriedly fished in his pockets. “I have $10.”

“Not gonna happen.” She started to close her door, but Dustin reached out and stopped her.

”$10 would help pay that overdue power bill.” He looked up at the mailbox.

Madame Z scowled. She nonchalantly reached her hand in and pulled out the stack of mail. She considered the mail and then Dustin. “You have fifteen minutes.”

Dustin pulled the séance box from his basket and left his bike behind. He hoped it would be there when he returned. He started to cross the threshold, but Madame Z stopped him and held out her hand. Dustin reluctantly handed over his money and clambered up the poorly lit stairs.

“Enter my Emporium of Mystery,” Madame Z spoke as she pushed him through a heavy, beaded curtain. The front room was draped in large tapestries that blocked out most light. It was attached to a small kitchen, and it looked like the couch folded out into a bed. It looked like everything happened in this room, save the bathroom.

“Nice place,” Dustin quipped.

“Don’t get smart. What do you want?” Madame Z walked around and set the crystal ball back in its holder in the center of a claw-foot table. It was the one nice piece of furniture in the place. She picked up a pack of cigarettes and pulled one out.

Dustin held up the séance box. “I bought this from your TV ads.”

“Damn things cost me a fortune.”

“Yeah, well, I had a séance on Halloween and now I think one of my friends is possessed.”

Madame Z took a drag on her cigarette. “They’re probably not.”

Dustin was a little put off. “No, I’m pretty sure they are.”

“Listen, kid, I’ve been in this business for years. Nine times out of ten, what people think is possessions is a midlife crisis, a mental breakdown, or drugs. It’s usually drugs.”

“I took the tests in the back of your stupid book, and it says otherwise,” Dustin protested.

“Fine.” Madame Z sat at the table and gestured for Dustin to join her. “Was this person involved in your séance?”

“Not directly, but they may have been listening via radio.”

“Possession via radio is extremely unlikely. There’d have to be a very strong connection between the living person and the deceased. Are they related?”

“Who?”

“Your friend and this spirit you tried to contact?”

Dustin chewed on his bottom lip. “No.”

“It’s drugs, kid. Thanks for coming by.”

“No, listen, my friend wasn’t in the séance circle, but I think they were at the actual epicenter, and I think they share a connection to this spirit because they’re both young and angsty and hormonal, if spirits get hormonal, and lonely.”

Madame Z eyed him for a long moment. “What TV movie is this based on?”

“It’s the truth!” Dustin pulled her book out of the box and flipped through it. “Dressing funny, different hairstyles, talking to invisible people, and possible telekinetic powers, it’s all there.”

She took another drag off her cigarette before answering. “We all want to see the best in the people we care about, and sometimes we go to extremes to explain odd behavior. None of us likes to think our loved ones could be abusing drugs, but it happens.”

“I don’t need a D.A.R.E. lesson, I need help!”

“Where did this séance take place?”

“Mooregrove Manor.”

Madame Z looked shocked. “They let you do a séance there?! I couldn’t even get in the door.”

“My friend, my possessed friend, snuck us in. He’s the night guard there. No séance is like the first rule of the place. We kind of broke it.”

“Whose spirit do you think he’s possessed by?”

“Uh, Lillian Mooregrove.”

“Right, the girl who was brutally shot down by her spurned lover.”

“No.”

“The one who died in the automobile accident?”

“No.”

“The sick one . . .”

“Yes.”

“. . .who died in her bed.”

“No. Do you know anything about Hawkins?”

Madame Z put her cigarette out and stood up with a huff. “I know moving to this hick town has bankrupted me! I moved here for all this supernatural activity, and do you know what I’ve found since moving here? Nada.”

Dustin stood up, planted his feet firmly, and squared his shoulders. “Lady, I know things that could wreck you.”

She sized him up. “I doubt that.”

“I’m serious. I have information.”

“That’s what they all say, all the people with tips and insider information. You know where it’s gotten me? This apartment, right here, talking to you.”

“Hey, your stupid séance box got my friend possessed!” Dustin fired back.

“If you’d read the whole book, you would know possession is always a risk, a small one, but a risk.”

Dustin pointed an angry finger to the back of her book. “Just tell me where I can get a copy of your other, dumb book about possession, and I’ll figure this out myself.”

Madame Z laughed ruefully. She pointed to a cluttered desk in the corner. “Half of it’s there.” She walked over to a box and kicked at it. “The other half is in there.”

Dustin sat back down in defeat. “It’s not even published?!”

“I thought this move would make me rich, all right?! Do you have any idea how much it costs to produce those boxes, publish books, buy TV ads?”

“You are a shit business manager,” Dustin remarked.

“Hey, you don’t get to judge. You’re like what, 12?”

“I’ve had lemonade stands better managed than this. I want my $10 back!”

Madame Z did her best to tower over him. “You paid for my advice, and you got it.”

“What advice?!” Dustin jumped out of the chair and pulled back one of the large curtains. The window behind it was half open.

“What are you doing?”

“Help, this lady is taking advantage of an innocent child!” he called out into the street.

“Stop it! Get back from there! Listen, I’ll help you.”

Dustin closed the curtain and turned to face her. Madame Z sighed. “Do you have anything from your friend, your possessed friend?”

Dustin remembered the folded pages in his pocket. He pulled them out and handed them to her. “I took these from two, different books on his desk.” He pointed to the page of poetry. “This book belonged to Lillian Mooregrove. Who, by the way, died after she fell through the roof of her house.”

“I knew it was something tragic.”

Dustin pointed to the page of prose. “And I saw Steve writing in this book yesterday at the park. That’s not his handwriting, but it does match Lillian’s handwriting.”

Madame Z examined the two pages. “Your certain about what you saw yesterday at the park regarding this book?”

Dustin hesitated. He’d been turning that over in his mind. He knew Steve had been writing in something, but had it really been that book? Things had happened so quickly; he couldn’t be 100% sure. “I am 80% sure, or uh, 75%.”

Madame Z didn’t believe him. She rolled her eyes and walked over to her overstuffed bookshelf. She pulled a thick dictionary down and walked back to him. “If these pages hold any type of connection, we’ll find out.” She opened the dictionary and placed one page near the front and then placed the other near the back. She closed the dictionary and waited.

“What happens now?” Dustin asked.

Madame Z didn’t respond. She took another breath and then opened the dictionary. There were both pages, back together at the front of the book. “How did you . . .” Dustin started to ask.

“Holy shit, that worked,” Madame Z commented.

“You’ve never done this before?!”

“Shut up, of course I have. I’ve just never seen it work that well.” Madame Z separated the pages again and closed the book. When she opened the book, they were right back together.

“What does it mean?”

“Shh.” She silenced the boy and thought. Madame Z selected another book from her shelf. She placed one page in the dictionary and the other in a completely different book. She waited a moment and opened the dictionary, and the pages were back together in the one book.

“What is happening?” Dustin was getting seriously freaked, and he’d experienced all kinds of freaky things in his short life.

Madame Z separated the pages again. She handed one of the books to Dustin. He took it reluctantly. “Go back to the door.”

“What?”

“Take the book back to the door and stay there,” Madame Z instructed.

“You mean the beaded curtain?”

“Just go!”

Dustin did as told. He walked back to the curtain and waited there. Madame Z watched him for a moment. “Open your book.” The boy tentatively opened the book in his hand and there were those two pages, right back together again.

“What the hell?!” Dustin dropped the book and moved away quickly. Madame Z walked over and collected the pages. “What does it mean?!”

She took a moment before answering. “Either these pages were written by the same person, or the connection between your friend and this spirit is, something else.”

“That’s bad, right? I read about the energy transfer, the whole battery thing.”

Madame Z scoffed. “If this is legitimate, your friend won’t be able to sustain this relationship for long.”

“What do I do?!”

She eyed the pages hungrily. “I can make a lot of money off of this.”

“What?! No, those are mine.” Dustin reached out, but she jerked the pages away from him.

“Let me keep these and I’ll help you, I’ll even give you a discount.”

“A discount?!”

“$150, and I’ll fix your friend.”

“$150 is the discount?!”

“It’s the best you’re gonna get.”

“You’re a crook!”

“I’m an entrepreneur,” Madame Z hissed back.

Dustin tried to get the pages back again, but she shoved them down the front of her dress. “Screw you! I’m smart! There’s a library full of sources!”

“Good luck.”

Dustin brushed past her. “My friends and I can solve anything. We’ve beaten monsters, literal monsters. And you will never know what I know. I’m keeping it all up here.” Dustin tapped his head. “You’re shit out of luck, lady.”

“Flip that around, kid, and you’ve got it right.”

Dustin scowled and grabbed his box. He stormed out of there as dramatically as he could, which was a bit of a struggle given that he got tangled up in those stupid beads. Fortunately, his bike was still there in the alley. He rode off through the night angrily, thinking of what to do next. The crazy lady had kept his best evidence. What did he have now? No one else was going to see Steve’s current state and believe what Dustin did. They were all focused on the possible drug angle, but that wasn’t Steve, Dustin knew it wasn’t. Bottom line, Dustin needed more proof.

“Where have you been, Dusty?” his mother asked as he entered the house. “Your friends have been trying to call you.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Who?”

“Will, he said he has some news for you.”

Dustin tore around the corner and into his room. He wanted to talk to Will, too, and the other member of his household. "Thanks, Mom!”

Dustin fumbled with his radio as he turned it on. “Will, this is Dustin, are you in, copy?” He really hoped they weren’t having dinner right now. “Will, this is Dustin, are you in, copy?”

“Dustin, there you are! I have amazing news, we’re coming in this weekend for Jonathan’s birthday. The Wheelers are having a party, and mom said it was okay, and . . .”

“That’s great,” Dustin cut him off. He was breaking radio protocol, but this was an emergency. “Is El coming with you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I need to talk to her for a minute, and then I need to talk to you again.”

“Okay, about what?” Will sounded suspicious.

“Let me talk to El, and if you could think for a second and write down everything you felt when you were possessed by the MindFlayer, that’d be super helpful.”

There was silence for a moment. “What’s going on, Dustin? Are things happening again? No one else said anything. If things are happening, my mom won’t . . .”

“They don’t know, and I’m not sure anything is happening, but it’d be great to talk to El.”

“Okay. Hold on.” There was silence for a moment and then a new voice.

“Dustin?”

“El, hey, how’s Evansville?”

“Loud.”

“Great. Listen, I would like to form an alliance with House Byers. I need your help, and I don’t want anyone else to know, not yet.”

“What is wrong, Dustin?”

Dustin chewed on his bottom lip, not sure what to say. “I think I’ve made a big mistake, and I need your help to fix it.”

“How?”

“Your powers, Mike said they were coming back, but I wanted to hear it from you. Do you think you could look in on someone for me?”

“You mean spy?”

“More like check in on.”

There was a moment of silence while Dustin held his breath. “Yes,” El replied.

Dustin was beyond relieved. “Great. I think I have a plan, if you and Will are up for it?”

He could hear El moving around on the radio from their apartment in the city. “Will is doing an assignment for you, but he said we are listening.”


	16. Where You Go, I Go

Chapter Fifteen

November 12-15, 1985

Where You Go, I Go

By Tuesday morning, Steve was over his illness, food poisoning, or whatever it had been. He’d been able to convince Nancy and Robin to go home the night before, after he’d been able to keep down some soup and recite the alphabet backwards. The next day came and everything was fine, only it wasn’t. Steve wasn’t sick anymore, but he still didn’t feel good. He felt off. He was restless, to the point where he wanted to climb the walls or pull his own skin off because it didn’t fit right. He had no interest in his special smoothies, and he couldn’t believe he’d ever eaten that concoction in the first place. “Might’ve been part of your stomach problem,” his mind reasoned.

Steve had no taste for food in general. Everything tasted dull. Everything looked dull. He felt dull, and slightly manic. It was a weird cocktail of emotions. He didn’t know what he needed, but something was missing. Maybe he wasn’t 100% better? Maybe he should stay home?

“NO!” a part of him screamed. He had to go to work because Marie had said she’d be waiting for him. And he had to be sure she was all right, that she hadn’t gotten sick. He had to see her.

Steve left for work early that evening. He couldn’t sit around the house anymore. If the girls hadn’t already cleaned the house, he could have invested his excess energy that way. As it was, he was pacing holes in the floor. Steve tried not to speed all the way to Mooregrove Manor. Last thing he needed right now was to attract the attention of Officer Powell again.

His nerves ramped up every second as he approached the house. Would Marie really be there? Was she okay? What if his proclamations of love from Sunday night had scared her off? She had replied in the affirmative, and Steve believed her, but then he’d also thrown up Monday morning. Nothing like cold, hard reality to douse the flames of new love. Maybe this was all too much for her?

“Please be there. Please be there,” he repeated over and over as he pulled into the driveway.

Steve barely managed to finagle his car into the employee lot and park. He was too busy looking all around, looking for Marie. With shaking hands, he stepped out of the car. He didn’t see her. Maybe she was waiting inside? Maybe she wasn’t there yet? He was a little early.

Steve cursed under his breath and slammed his car door. The wrong feeling inside him was so much stronger now. He wanted to scream out, but he knew it wouldn’t fix anything. A gust of wind blew past him, rustling the trees to his right. Steve looked over into the wood line at the edge of the yard, and there she was!

His heart jumped for joy, and without a thought, Steve was running to her. Marie held out her arms, waiting, and soon he was in them. Steve pulled her close and buried his nose in her hair. She clung to him, almost like she was trying to climb inside him. The off-feeling Steve had been fighting was gone. He felt whole again. His center had been restored.

“Are you all right? Did you get sick?”

She shook her head into his chest. Steve was relieved at this, but he could tell something was still wrong. Marie was happy to see him, but she was also sad. He could feel it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Steve pushed her away gently. Her face was so pretty, but so grief stricken.

“I don’t know how this will work,” Marie sobbed.

Steve felt his throat grow tight. “What won’t work?”

”Us. I don’t know how it will last.”

Steve held on to her a little tighter. “Do you have to go home? Are you leaving?”

Marie shook her head again, but then reconsidered. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. You’ve thrown my world off kilter.”

“Same here.”

“I feel like I don’t exist without you.” Marie buried her face in his chest again, seeking out the comforting beat of his heart.

Steve enveloped her completely in his arms, trying to shield her from the world outside. If it were possible, he’d run off with her right then and there, leave everything behind. “I never want to be without you again,” he spoke at last. “It was hell.”

“I don’t want to be without you, either.”

“Where you go, I go. That’s what we said, right?” Steve tucked his hand under her chin and lifted her face gently.

“Where you go, I go,” she repeated.

“Then we’ll figure it out.”

“How?”

“I don’t know how, but we will. I promise you.” Steve leaned in to kiss her, but hesitated. “I’m not sick anymore.”

Marie surged up and kissed him. And there was that feeling, that blissful rush thrumming through his veins. Steve had missed it. He didn’t know what it would take, but he was going to make this work.

They took it slow the rest of the week, played it low key. Marie would accompany Steve on his rounds through the house. She read to him, and sometimes they danced. In the morning, she went home with him and they stayed snuggled up in his bed. He slept a lot, but that was all right. Marie seemed perfectly content to rest by his side. Steve was back on his orange juice and cola kick, but he nixed the baked goods. It was a remarkably easy existence, and Steve could see himself spending the rest of his life this way, minus working at Mooregrove Manor. But the Manor did have its charms, and it had brought Marie into his life.

On Friday night, they were sitting in the window seat on the third floor, peacefully reading their books, when Marie looked up at him. “Steve,” she began, an odd tone to her voice, “there are things I need to tell you. Important things.”

“Me, too.” And there were things he needed to tell her, experiences she needed to know about if they were going to spend the rest of their days together. Steve really wanted to spend the rest of his days with her.

“You, too?” She sounded confused. “I know everything about you.”

He laughed. “You’re cute.”

“Ask me any question about yourself, I can answer it,” she assured him.

“Favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Favorite book?”

“Along Came a Dog, and now Wuthering Heights.”

He smiled. “Favorite song?”

“Jessie’s Girl and I’m Falling in Love with Someone.”

Steve rested his hand gently atop hers. “What am I thinking right now?”

Marie sighed. It was sad, not frustrated. “One of a million things.”

“I’m thinking I could do this the rest of my life”

She looked away quickly and pulled her hand back. “Don’t say such things.”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. That had been too much. “Sorry, let’s uh, go back to the moment before I put my foot in my mouth.”

Marie leaned her head against the glass and looked out into the darkness. “Tell me again?”

Steve was about to ask what, but he already knew. “I love you.”

“Say it again,” she whispered.

“I love you.”

“Tell me we’ll make it work.”

“We’ll make it work.”

Marie scooted over and crawled into his lap, leaning back against him. He rested his chin on top of her head. “Do you want to talk now?” he asked her.

“No.” She shook her head. “But soon.”

This conversation had been coming for some time, this conversation about their future. Marie was tight lipped about her home, her family, and Steve was sure there was a reason for her silence. He could only guess at what it was, but it probably wasn’t good. It was the elephant in the room, but it could wait a little longer.

“I’m off the next two days. Are you staying over again this weekend? I’ll try not to get sick.”

“Are you back here on Monday?”

“Yes.”

Marie considered for a moment. “We should be all right but let’s not do anything strenuous.”

Steve kissed the top of her head. “My favorite thing is just being with you.” Then he remembered the invitation that had arrived in his mailbox. “My friends are having a party tomorrow night. Jonathan is turning the big 18.”

“Jonathan the one who beat you up once?”

“Yeah, but that was a lifetime ago. We’re good now.” He pulled her closer. “I’d love for you to meet them.” He could feel her tense up in his arms. “They’re important to me. You’re important to me.”

Marie was silent for a moment. “We can leave when I want to?”

“Oh yeah, we don’t have to stay the whole time. You call the shots, I promise.”


	17. Party at the Wheelers

Chapter Sixteen

November 16, 1985

Party at the Wheelers

Operation Ghost Bust was a go. It had been touch and go the last week for many reasons, but Dustin felt pretty confident now. At least that was the feeling he was going to project. The week had been rough. First, El had discovered she could only “spy” on people when she knew exactly where they were. Will said he’d help her practice, see if her reach would extend any. Second, Dustin’s mother had found out about the Tom Sawyer book report incident, and Dustin was grounded. No radio. No meeting up with friends, nothing but homework if he wanted to go to the party on Saturday.

Dustin had hunkered down, but the lack of contact extended to Steve. Robin had assured him Steve was on the mend when she left him Monday, but Dustin was far from convinced. He did manage to lay eyes on his friend once that week. Steve was on his way to work. He was dressed in his uniform, and his hair wasn’t slicked back anymore. From the outside, everything looked fine, but Dustin couldn’t fight that nagging feeling inside him. It looked like Steve, but it still didn’t feel like Steve. Whatever that meant?

He had finally made it to Saturday, though. He had gotten the chance to speak with El and Will before they left that morning. El was still having issues, but Dustin was going to help her and radio Steve’s exact position in the house to her. She knew Mike’s house well, so that was a bonus. Will’s job was to keep the others occupied. Now the party would be starting soon, and Dustin was in position, lying in wait in the bushes at the end of the Wheeler’s yard. The Byers would be there any minute. Dustin just hoped Steve would show.

  
Jonathan’s crappy car pulled into the driveway. Nancy and Mike rushed out to greet them, the rest of the gang following behind. It was all excited tones and hugs and it made Dustin’s heart happy to have everyone back together again. Maybe if this all went well, they could have a game day tomorrow? It was long overdue.

Dustin scrunched back into the bushes, not wanting to be seen. He heard the conversation move inside and the door close. A moment later, it reopened, and Will casually made his way across the lawn. “Caw caw,” Dustin signaled.

Will walked over to the bush. “What was that?” he whispered.

“That was the signal.”

“Dustin, you told me you’d be in the bushes.”

“Did the others see me?”

“No, I told them I was going to wait out here for you, said I had a surprise for you.”

“You have a surprise for me?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Dustin was slightly disappointed. “Did they seem suspicious?”

“No, they were too busy being couples. It’s gross.”

“Yeah,” Dustin sighed.

“Hey, I’m sorry about Suzy.”

“It comes and goes, Byers. It comes and goes.”

“What does that even mean?” Will asked.

“I don’t know. Steve said it once.”

A familiar car pulled up across the street. “Holy shit, he came.” Dustin had wanted Steve to come. He needed Steve to come for his plan to work, but now that he was here, could they pull it off?

Will seemed to be having second thoughts, too. “What do I do?”

“Engage him and see how possessed he seems, then report back to me.”

“Right.”

From inside the car, Steve looked out at the Wheeler’s house. Marie was nervous in the passenger seat beside him. “Remember, we can leave whenever you want. I won’t leave you; I promise.” He squeezed her hand. “You call the shots.”

Marie nodded in acceptance. Steve smiled at her and kissed her forehead. He opened his car door and stepped out. He walked around and opened Marie’s door for her. Will had been halfway across the lawn to greet him, but he stopped. That was weird. Who had Steve opened the door for?

Steve turned and walked toward the house and Will had to remember to say something. “Hey, Steve,” he began awkwardly. “Long time, no see.”

Steve’s response was just as awkward. He stopped and stared at Will, like he was trying to remember who he was. “Will, Will Byers, Jonathan’s younger brother,” he said at last, an odd lilt to his voice.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

Steve took another moment, like he was being fed lines from some invisible script. “Have you enjoyed your move?”

“I’ve missed everybody.”

Another pause. “I’m sure your friends missed you, too. It’s been nice chatting with you.” With that, Steve was on the move.

“Okay.” Will watched as Steve rang the doorbell and was welcomed into the house by Karen Wheeler. He quickly walked back over to Dustin.

“What’d you think?”

“On a scale of one to ten, he’s like a twelve. That, or he’s stoned out of his mind.”

“It’s not drugs,” Dustin insisted.

“Either way he’s got a problem.”

Dustin fought his way out of the bushes. He pulled two walkie talkies out of his backpack and handed one to Will. “Sneak this into the upstairs, guest bathroom. Get El everything she needs and get her up there. Tell her to radio me when she’s ready. Channel 4, got it?”

“Got it.”

“I’ll get inside and keep tabs on Steve. You’ll have to distract the guys and Max.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, talk about Evansville.”

“It’s so boring.”

“Tell a joke then!” Dustin was getting frustrated.

“I don’t know any jokes!” Will sounded borderline panicked.

Dustin huffed. “Two muffins are in the oven. One of them looks to the other and asks, ‘Is it getting hot in here?’ The second muffin looks at the first and goes, ‘Ah, a talking muffin!’”

Will turned and walked back to the house. Dustin could hear him mumbling the joke to himself. Dustin rolled his eyes and kept to the shadows as the other boy slipped inside.

Lucas looked up from the living room as Will returned. “Hey, where’s Dustin?”

Will hugged the wall, concealing the walkie talkie behind his back. “Eh, he’ll be along eventually.”

Lucas shrugged and went back to talking to Mike. Max leaned across the couch and offered Will a seat. “Tell us all about Evansville.”

“Later, I’ll do that later.” Will pointed up the stairs. “Bathroom.” He awkwardly made his way up the stairs.

“Long car ride,” El explained as the others watched him go. “I’ll need to go soon, too.”

“We have more than one bathroom,” Mike reminded her.

“I like the guest one. It smells nice.”

“Not like the manly funk of yours,” Lucas joked, nudging Mike.

Mike was not amused. “Shut up.” He gave Lucas a push.

“Children, stop.” Max rolled her eyes and looked at Eleven. “I have missed you so much.”

Outside, Dustin inched his way closer to the door, waiting for El to tell him he she was in position. He was so ready to go, to do this, to finally have proof. Waiting out there in the dark was the worst. The silence of the evening was broken by the putt putt of a motor bike. Dustin looked up to see an unfamiliar bike, but a familiar person. Robin parked the bike and stepped off. She removed her helmet and draped it over the handlebars.

Robin headed for the Wheeler’s front door, but a movement on the lawn caught her eye. “Dustin?”

He stepped out of the shadows, trying to play his odd behavior off as completely normal. “Robin, how’s it going? You get a new ride?”

“Uh, yeah, trying her out.”

“Cool.” Dustin shuffled his feet awkwardly. “What are you up to?”

“Going to this party. Kind of feel weird I was invited, but I’m part of this group, right?”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Dustin assured her.

“What are you doing?”

“Enjoying this cold, November night.”

“Okay.”

She knocked on the door. Dustin ducked back into the shadows. “I’m not here,” he hissed.

“All right, weirdo.” Nancy opened the door and welcomed Robin in. To her credit, she didn’t say anything about the boy lurking on the lawn.

Inside, Will made his way back down the stairs as quickly as he could. He gave El a very pronounced look and she pulled away from Mike. “I need to go now,” she spoke.

“Okay. Have fun.”

She kissed Mike lightly on the cheek and headed up the stairs.

“Have fun?” Max asked.

“I don’t know. We haven’t seen each other in a while,” Mike defended.

“I have fun in the bathroom,” Lucas mentioned.

“Gross,” they all said in various ways.

“What? Not like that!” He blushed, clearly flustered. “Where is Dustin?”

At that moment, Karen Wheeler and Steve came around the corner. She had been showing him around the house, almost like it was his first time, but they had remodeled the kitchen and dining room within the last three months. “That’s a great suggestion about the curtains. I’d never even thought of that. Thank you.” She patted Steve on the arm and grabbed her purse hanging by the door. “I’ll be back with pizza.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler.” Came the chorus form the living room.

Steve was left alone with the kids. They all regarded each other for a moment. “Will, Mike, Lucas, and Maxine,” Steve finally spoke, like he was taking a test.

“What did you call me?” Max leaned forward.

“Max,” Steve corrected.

“Steve,” Mike replied.

Steve nodded. “It’s nice to see you all.” He moved stiffly and walked to the other side of the room. “There, I’ve met them all,” it sounded like he said.

“He’s on drugs,” Mike whispered to Will.

“For real?” Lucas asked.

“You can’t just say that,” Max admonished.

“I don’t know, but he’s being super weird.”

“I know a joke about some muffins,” Will spoke up loudly. They all stared at him.

Robin came around the corner. Nancy had taken her back to the study to see a piece of art. “Kids,” she said.

“We’re not kids,” Lucas corrected.

“Steve!” she called when she saw her friend and ran over. Steve seemed a little overwhelmed by Robin’s exuberance.

Jonathan laughed at something Nancy said and she pulled him with her into the kitchen. “Do you have any new comics?” Will called the group’s attention back to him.

Mike shrugged. “Yeah, come on.” He led the group up the stairs to his room. That was just the opening Dustin needed to slip inside the house.

He went left at first on his quest to locate Steve, which was a mistake, because he caught Nancy and Jonathan making out in the kitchen. He quickly backed up and turned around. Fortunately, he could see Steve sitting in the living room talking to Robin, or at least Robin was talking to him. Dustin held the radio up to his mouth, ready to divulge Steve’s location to Eleven waiting above, when Steve looked up and saw him. Dustin hurried to hide the walkie talkie.

Steve’s eyes lit up in recognition. That was an encouraging sign to Dustin. This was the happy, always mischievous look he was accustomed to seeing in his friend's eyes. Steve jumped up from Robin and made a beeline for Dustin. “What am I, chopped liver?” Robin mumbled.

“Dustin, where is Steve?” El asked through the walkie talkie. Dustin fumbled to turn the radio off as Steve approached. He didn’t want to blow the mission from the start. Eleven would have to wait a moment.

“Steve, hey. You feelin’ better?”

Steve paused for a moment, and then he seemed to remember. “Yes, I am feeling better.” He took a breath, his hands moving, almost nervously, one across the other. “I wanted to tell you that you do not have to worry anymore.”

“About what?”

“About me.”

“Okay.”

“I have someone now. Someone I care about very much, and we’re going to be together. We’ll take care of each other.”

“You mean Marie?”

In the hallway above, Mike stepped out of his bedroom and stood in front of the bathroom door. “What’s taking El so long?” He looked at Max. “Should I knock?”

Will made his way to the bathroom door, almost like he was trying to block it. “She’s probably adjusting back to the Hawkins water, higher Sulfur levels.”

Max ignored him and knocked on the door. “El, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, and then added, “Girl problems.”

Mike and Lucas instantly took a step back. “Maybe I should check on her?” Max went to reach for the door, but Will moved further in front of it.

“She likes to be alone for this kind of thing. Happens all the time at home.”

The door opened a crack from the other side. Eleven’s hand reached out and grabbed Will by the shoulder. She pulled him into the bathroom with her. “It’s an Evansville thing,” he attempted to explain as the door closed back.

The others were silent for a moment. “What emotion am I supposed to be feeling here?” Mike asked.

Back downstairs, Dustin was dumbfounded as Steve continued to talk. “Yes. I’m – She’s going to be taking care of me from now on. I won’t be lonely. You don’t have to worry about me any longer.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you can turn your focus elsewhere. School, hobbies, sporting with your friends.”

“You’re my friend.”

“I have new priorities in my life now.”

“What?” Dustin’s apprehension had been steadily rising, but now it was about ready to bolt and take him along with it. Whoever this was talking to him, it was not Steve.

Will slipped out of the bathroom. Mike was about to ask a loaded question, but the other boy stopped him. “Just, uh, checking on something for El.” Will hurried to the banister and looked over. He spotted Steve talking to Dustin. That explained it. He quickly returned to the door and slipped back inside the bathroom. “I promise this is not what it looks like,” he assured the others as he disappeared again.

“What is happening?” Mike was so confused.

“I have new priorities in life, and things will be different,” Steve stressed.

“Different how?” Dustin struggled to ask.

“You may not see me as much anymore, but I want you to know I am fine. Steve – I am where I want to be. You understand this, yes?”

Dustin felt his blood run cold. “Yes,” he managed to reply because Steve looked like he really wanted a reply. The conversation was over. Steve nodded awkwardly and made his way slowly back to where Robin was seated, flipping through a magazine.

At the top of the stairs, Mike had run out of patience. He started pounding on the bathroom door. “I’d really like it if you all came out now.”

Dustin had been frozen to the spot where Steve’s last look had left him, but his attention was pulled upward. Crap! El couldn’t concentrate with all that banging. Also, he needed to radio El. He quickly turned the walkie back on and ducked into the kitchen, teenage make out session be damned. “El, he’s in the living room, the living room.”

“We got it,” Will replied. “Do something about Mike.”

“Dustin, you creep!” Nancy realized they weren’t alone in the room and separated from Jonathan as quickly as she could. It took a second considering both of her boyfriend’s hands were under her shirt.

Jonathan tried to play it off. “Dustin, you made it.”

Just then, the back door opened and in walked Mr. Wheeler and Holly, the youngest of the Wheeler clan. Nancy seemed surprised. “Dad, I thought there was a lock in at the church?”

“Yes, but then there was a lice scare, so we came home.”

“Todd has lice because he’s an icky boy,” Holly commented.

“Yes, honey, all boys are icky, remember that all your life.” He gave a pointed look to Jonathan and then Nancy. “Let Daddy put his stuff away, and then we’ll go downstairs and watch a movie.”

“Yay!” Holly cheered.

Mr. Wheeler shouldered his duffle and sleeping bag and headed down the hall. “Mike, stop banging on the door. There’s another bathroom downstairs.”

Dustin seized the opportunity for a distraction. He pulled Holly aside. “Holly, I will pay you $5 to run into Mike’s room, grab the most embarrassing thing you can find, and show everyone here.” He pulled a crumpled bill out of his pocket and handed it to the girl.

“Deal!” Holly was gone in a flash up the stairs.

“Mike, it can’t be what you think it is,” Lucas tried to reason with his friend.

“Maybe she’s homesick,” Max suggested.

“This is her home,” Mike argued.

Suddenly, Holly was running by them, and it took Mike longer than it normally would to figure out where she was going. “What are you doing?” He took off after her. She was too fast for him, though. As a little sister, she knew exactly what she was going for. Holly grabbed the journal out from under his bed and ducked under his arms and was back out the door.

“No! Stop her!” Mike called as Holly took off down the stairs. Lucas and Max hurried behind Mike as he stumbled after his younger sister. None of them heard the shower running in the bathroom.

Behind the door, El concentrated hard on the floor below. She knew what the living room looked like. She could picture it in her mind, and then bit by bit, the furniture dropped away. The walls faded to black and it was just her, her and Steve. His figure looked a little fuzzy, like she was seeing him through a haze, but she was out of practice. She was just glad she’d found him. El stepped up to him. He was looking the other direction, unaware of her presence in any way, which was a good sign.

But then something shifted, and the haze surrounding him seemed to move. The haze took shape. It looked like a person, like a girl, and to El it seemed as if she stepped right out of Steve.

The other girl was shocked to see El. “Who are you?” she asked.

“Who are you?” El repeated.

The girl backed away and El reached out to grab her. She looked translucent. El could still see Steve sitting behind her. But when El reached out for her, she was able to wrap her hand around the girl’s pale wrist. The other girl cried out, as if burned, and jerked her arm away. The motion propelled El out of the space and back into the bathroom. She gasped and ripped the towel from around her eyes.

“What did you see?” Will asked her. He handed her a tissue for her nose as she continued to breathe heavily.

Downstairs, the pandemonium had reached a new level as Mike and Lucas chased Holly through the house. Max had given up. She made some comment to Dustin, but he wasn’t listening, he was too busy watching Steve. A moment ago, he’d dropped the cup Robin had offered him. The look on his face was hard to place, but his whole body looked like he’d been electrocuted.

“Steve, are you okay?” Robin asked.

He seemed to jerk back to reality, but he wasn’t fine. Steve stood up. He ran his palm on his jeans and looked around the room. He looked terrified, like a wounded bird. The trio was coming back down the hall now, Holly still in the lead. Nancy stepped out of the kitchen to demand what was going on. Mr. Wheeler was calling down the hall for everyone to shut up.

Inside, Marie was all off balance. What had just happened? Who was that other girl? How had she seen her? How had she touched her? The room was too loud. There were too many people, and for a minute she was right back in the Rose Room when her parents would throw one of their lavish parties. She hated those parties so much, having to dress up and sit in a chair for hours, pretend to be interested, listen as her parents’ friends whispered behind her back about what a shame it all was. Marie wanted to go. She needed to leave.

Mike ran past Steve, bumping into him. “Watch it,” Mike called out.

Steve flicked his hand and the end table scooted a little, sending Mike tripping over it and crashing to the floor. “Ow!” Holly stopped to look back, make sure her brother was okay. Mike seized the opportunity to spring to his knees and grab the journal from her. “Ha!”

His head reeling, Steve stumbled out of the room and for the door. “Are you okay?” Robin asked again.

Jonathan had joined Nancy in the entryway to see what all the commotion was about. As he drew closer, Steve clutched his head and bent over. “Hey, man, I can drive you home,” Jonathan offered. He reached out and touched Steve’s arm.

The other boy reacted immediately, seizing Jonathan by the chest and pushing him back against the wall. “Steve!” Nancy called out.

Steve pushed Jonathan up the wall slightly. He did it so easily, with just one hand, as if Jonathan weighed nothing. “You hurt Steve once before, beat him down.” He turned his attention to Nancy. “And you went behind his back, broke his heart. You tease him and insult him. I don’t think you’re very good friends. I don’t think you’re very nice people.” Steve pressed into Jonathan’s chest a little harder.

“Steve,” Jonathan winced. The other boy made eye contact with him. Jonathan pointed to his nose. Without thought, Steve reached up and wiped the blood from under his nose.

“Jonathan!” Will shouted from the top of the stairs.

Everyone looked up to where Will and El stood. Steve released Jonathan and backed away. “I want you all to stay away from me.” He pointed a finger up at El. “Especially you.” The photos hanging on the wall behind El came crashing to the floor all at once.

“I’d like to go home now,” Steve announced. “I want to leave!” With that, he turned and left the house, leaving nothing but confusion and silence in his wake.

A million voices started talking at once, but Dustin silenced them all. “Shut up! Shut up!” He rushed up the stairs to El. “Are you okay?” She nodded. “What did you see?”

El looked him directly in the eyes. “That wasn’t Steve.”


	18. Basement Meeting, Stat!

Chapter Seventeen

November 16, 1985

Basement Meeting, Stat!

Following Steve’s dramatic exit, the party had reconvened in Mike’s basement. First there had been a lot of shouting, followed by Karen Wheeler’s return with the pizzas. Differences were set aside in the interest of food, because they were all hungry. They’d taken the pizza downstairs to be ravaged, but now the first pieces had been devoured and they were all sitting there looking at one another. The silence was so heavy and thick, you could cut it with a knife, even a plastic one.

“Okay,” Nancy spoke at last. “Who would like to start?”

“Dustin,” a chorus of young voices said at once.

Dustin winced. “Thanks, guys.”

“The séance was your idea,” Lucas pointed out.

“Hold up, a séance?” Nancy was floored. “That’s what you did on Halloween?” She gave Mike an accusatory look.

“I wanted to stay in and watch movies,” her younger brother defended.

“What’s a séance?” Eleven asked.

“A ceremony to contact the dead,” Max told her.

Dustin sighed and fished the séance box out of his ever-handy backpack. “It was our first Halloween apart, and I wanted something fun and different. These assholes didn’t even want to celebrate.” He pointed at Lucas and Mike.

“Guys, it’s Halloween,” Will sounded almost hurt.

“The point is, you held a séance at Mooregrove Manor and now Steve is possessed, presumably by the spirit of Lillian Mooregrove. This is the point, right?” Robin wanted to cut through the bullshit and get to the heart of the matter.

“I don’t get it. He wasn’t even in the room with us, and nothing happened,” Lucas explained.

“Because we weren’t at the epicenter.” Dustin located the appropriate pages in the instruction book and showed them to Lucas. Jonathan reached out and took the book instead.

“Let me see that.”

“Hey,” Lucas protested. Jonathan shot him down with a look.

“Steve was at the epicenter, in Lillian’s bedroom, and he was listening to us through the walkie talkie. Remember how he looked when we found him?”

Max shuddered. “I remember.”

Nancy reached out and touched the girl’s shoulder lightly. “Max, are you okay being here?”

The younger girl bristled a little at the suggestion in Nancy’s question. “Yeah, I’m fine. I wish people would stop asking me that.”

Jonathan looked up at his brother. “Are you okay?”

Will looked confused. “I’m all right. Why?”

“Bad memories or something, I don’t know. Mom says I’m supposed to check on you. I’m checking.”

“Thanks. I’m good.”

Mike put his head in his hands. “We are so messed up.”

“Wait, go back.” Nancy stopped Jonathan as he flipped through the pages of the book. “We open a door to the past and invite you in,” she read. She looked up at Dustin and he squirmed under her intense glare. “You opened a door? The four of you, knowing what you know, opened a door?”

“I didn’t think anything was going to happen,” Dustin protested.

“It’s not like a gate to the Upside Down,” Mike added.

“Doesn’t matter,” Nancy fired back. “You don’t open gates or doors or anything and invite something in.”

“I didn’t expect Lillian Mooregrove to actually walk through. I didn’t even think ghosts were real.” Dustin was practically pleading. He already felt guilty enough. He didn’t need them heaping more on him.

Jonathan scoffed. “Why not? Everything else in the world is.”

“Parallel universes have a scientific basis. Ghosts do not,” Dustin reasoned. Mike and Lucas had to agree.

“We’re not debating this right now,” Nancy enforced. “The point is, you geniuses summoned a ghost.”

“Dustin said it was harmless. He said nothing would happen,” Mike emphasized, further throwing his friend under the bus.

“Yeah, he read the book,” Lucas added.

“You read this whole book, and you didn’t once stop to think about it?” Jonathan was dumbfounded.

Dustin squirmed a little bit more. “Well . . .”

Mike rolled his eyes. “You Tom Sawyered this, didn’t you?”

“What is that?” Max asked.

Mike leaned back against the couch in a huff. “Dustin and I made a bet that he could just read every fifth page of a book and still pass the book report. He did that with Tom Sawyer.”

“And I got a D, so I won the bet,” Dustin protested. “I didn’t fail.”

Lucas hit Dustin with the nearest pillow. “We’re in this mess because you read every fifth page?!” He kept hitting him.

“Ow! Stop it! You all were right there with me,” Dustin reminded them.

“It happened. It’s done!” Robin spoke above them all. “What do we do now?”

“What about this other book, the one about possession?” Jonathan pointed to the back of Madame Z’s book.

Dustin gave a rueful laugh. “I visited Madame Z, and she’s crazy. The book isn’t finished. It’s on her desk and in a box, I don’t know. She stole my best evidence. These pages I had, she stuffed them down her bra, and then she wanted $150 to fix Steve.”

“$150?!” Nancy sounded aghast.

“What did she stuff down her bra?” Will asked.

“These pages I had, one from Steve and one from Lillian, but they both had the same handwriting. She put them in different books and in different places and the pages always ended up in the same book side by side,” he struggled to explain. “It was freaky.”

“That sounds cool,” Lucas commented.

“It’s not cool. It’s freaky, and she’s insane and unhelpful.”

“Wait a minute.” Nancy picked the box up off the floor and looked at the picture on it. “Dustin, is this the lady with the TV ads? You bought this from her?”

“Stop with your judgement! I screwed up! I know!”

At that moment, Karen Wheeler picked her way down the stairs carefully. She held a perfectly round chocolate cake with 18 candles lit on top. “Happy Birthday to you!” she started to sing and the rest of them joined in at varying levels of awkwardness.

“Happy Birthday, dear Jonathan, happy birthday to you!”

Jonathan blew the candles out and took the cake. “Thanks, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Nancy gave her mother a pointed look that her presence was no longer needed.

“You kids have fun. Don’t get crumbs all over the floor.” Karen Wheeler nodded. They were all staring at her, not saying anything. This was sufficiently awkward. She nodded again and climbed the stairs.

Karen closed the door to the basement and leaned against it. Her husband was in the kitchen, finishing off a tub of ice cream. “This is a weird party.”

Ted Wheeler shrugged his shoulders. “It’s better now that Steve left.”

“Where did Steve go?” His absence was just now obvious to Karen.

“I don’t know, but I’m glad he’s gone. He’s on drugs.” Ted Wheeler licked his spoon and placed it in the sink.

“He is not.”

“That’s what everyone’s saying.” Ted tossed the empty carton in the trash and left the kitchen.

Karen looked around the room, surprised by that conversation. She looked at her curtains and her earlier conversation with Steve came back to mind. “Oh,” she voiced in realization. She should have known. What nineteen-year-old young man was really that interested in curtains? “It’s still a good idea,” she whispered as she left the kitchen.

Downstairs, the group ate their cake in silence. For the moment they were at a stalemate.

“Sorry this happened on your birthday,” Nancy whispered to Jonathan.

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t know how to handle it if everything was normal.” He shot her a smile and she laughed. “Will disappears at Thanksgiving, gets possessed at Halloween.”

“The mall explodes on the Fourth of July,” Lucas adds.

“And now Steve Harrington is possessed by the spirit of a teenage girl.” Jonathan snorted and started to laugh. “This is our normal.”

They all started to laugh. “What is so funny?” Eleven asked, but she laughed as well, mostly because Mike was laughing so hard.

Dustin gave a couple of snickers, but he wasn’t bent over laughing like the rest of the room. In fact, the longer they laughed, they worse he felt. “But it could kill him,” he spoke up over everyone. “Being possessed by Lillian could kill him. So, it is funny, but it’s also not.”

They all stopped and swallowed. Silence followed his last comment.

“She’s using him like a battery. I, uh, did read that page. And battery’s go dead after so much use.” He pushed his slice of cake around his plate.

Nancy and Robin exchanged a look. “That’s why he was so sick the other day,” Robin spoke up, “when we had to pull him out of the shower.”

“You did what?” Jonathan asked.

Nancy set her cake down and put her face in her hands. “Oh, I thought he was on drugs. I am so stupid.”

“It’s a much more obvious answer than this.” Robin gestured to the room.

“Yeah, but I know us,” Nancy contended. Jonathan pulled her close to his side in comfort. “And I know Steve and he wouldn’t do that.”

Robin took a bite of her cake as she thought. “He was better when we left him on Monday, and he seemed all right at the party, minus the whole possession thing.”

Max had an idea. “Did he go back to work this week?”

“Yeah, on Tuesday,” Dustin replied.

“What if the battery recharged? What if Mooregrove Manor is a charging station for Lillian?”

“Yeah, but no battery holds a charge forever, even the rechargeable kind,” Jonathan pointed out.

“Then we keep Steve away from Mooregrove Manor,” Lucas proposed.

Mike scoffed. “A little hard to do now that his crazy, dead girlfriend told us to stay away.”

“We have to separate them somehow.” Nancy picked the book back up, hoping there was an answer somewhere inside. “We need to do an exorcism or something.”

“Like you did with Will, when you drove him out to the cabin?” Lucas spoke up. “When you had to poke him with that burning rod.”

“You did what?” Will was confused. He had no memory of that, which was probably for the best.

Jonathan looked at his younger brother. “I don’t think that’s going to work here. This isn’t a monster from the Upside Down.”

“No, Lillian, is, was, a person. She has thoughts and feelings. We need to figure out what she wants with Steve.” Nancy knocked the book off her lap in frustration. “Ugh, that thing is no help.”

“I told you,” Dustin quipped.

“What does Lillian want with Steve?” Max asked.

“We all heard him, or her at the party. She obviously cares about Steve. She’s mad at the people who hurt him in the past, i.e. you two.” Robin pointed at Nancy and Jonathan. “I think she loves him.” She took a breath. “And I think he loves her, too.”

“He can’t be that desperate,” Mike guffawed. Robin hit one shoulder and Max hit the other. “Hey, ow!” He looked to Eleven for help.

“Love is powerful, Mike. You know that,” Eleven spoke and Mike relented. He nodded and took her hand gently in his.

Robin leaned back against the base of the couch from her position on the floor. “Before Halloween, Steve was telling me about Lillian Mooregrove and what he’d learned on the job. The way he described her, it was like poetry. I think he loved her even then.”

“Hold up.” Lucas stood up and looked at them all. “How can he not know she’s a ghost?”

“Possession is all consuming,” Will spoke up, his voice light but forceful. “It rearranges your brain. You exist only for it, whatever it is. The MindFlayer didn’t care about me, but it needed me. If Lillian really cares about Steve, I can’t imagine what that level of possession feels like.”

“Do you thinks she wants to kill him?” Max hazarded to ask.

“I think she’d have done that already if that was her goal,” Will replied.

“Then what does she want?” Dustin had to know.

“What she couldn’t have during her living years,” Robin spoke, her voice sure and steady. “A love of her own.”

“Whether she loves him or not, she’s still going to kill him,” Jonathan pointed out again. “She may not mean to, but that’s endgame here.”

Dustin looked at El, his desperation obvious on his face. “You said you could see Lillian, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you were able to touch her?”

“I grabbed her wrist.”

“What did she feel like?”

Eleven thought for a moment. “Like energy? Power? But also sadness and hurt, anger.”

Dustin leaned forward. “Do you think you could pull them apart, if you got ahold of her again?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Mike spoke at the same time as her. “No, we’re not doing that.”

“Mike, I can do it.”

He ignored her and kept pressing Dustin. “And thanks for involving my girlfriend in your secret, dangerous plot.”

“Yeah, what was up with that?” Lucas gave Will an accusatory look. “We plan everything together. We’re a team.”

“Dustin needed our help,” Will tried to explain.

“We wanted to help,” El confirmed.

“You should have told me first,” Mike pointed out.

“She doesn’t have to tell you anything,” Max argued. Mike scowled at her.

“Children!” Nancy spoke up, and they all took offense. “We have to get on the same page. Dustin, we’re not using El to pull Lillian out of Steve. There are too many things that can go wrong with that. What we need is more information. We’re going to see Madame Z.”

Dustin was angry. “No, she’s crazy. She wants $150 to do shit!”

“The three of us will go.” Nancy pointed to Jonathan and Robin. “We’re the adults here, and we won’t be paying her $150.”

“Adults?!” Lucas scoffed. “He just turned eighteen. Robin’s nineteen.”

“And you're still in high school,” Mike directed at Nancy.

“We’re the adults,” Jonathan spoke over him. “We’ll figure this out.”

“Four years doesn’t make you experts,” Dustin argued. “And El has to leave tomorrow.”

“We know who’s not the expert,” Nancy remarked, and Dustin fought the urge to throw his cake at her. “We will see Madame Z and we will get the answers we need,” she further enforced. “We’ll exorcize Steve, and then we’re going to write a constitution.”

“A what?” Robin looked at her.

“A constitution that establishes certain rules, like no opening doors and gates and no summoning.”

“And no forming secret plans without the rest of the group,” Mike added, looking at Dustin and Will.

“Fine,” Dustin spat.

“We’ll find Madame Z tomorrow and report back.” Nancy picked up the book and seance box. “I’ll take these with us.” She stood and looked at the food that was strewn around the basement in different containers. “We should clean this place up.”

Robin got to her feet. She squeezed Dustin’s knee. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Dustin swallowed his anger and pretended to clean. When the “adults” weren’t looking, he scribbled a hasty note on a napkin and surreptitiously passed it around the others.

“Their plan is shit, and it’ll take too long. I have another idea,” the note read.


	19. Plan A/Plan B

Chapter Eighteen

November 17, 1985

Plan A/Plan B

“Madame Z’s Emporium of Mystery,” Robin read the faded letters on the banged-up door. “This seems legitimate.”

Nancy pounded on the door with a surprising amount of force. “Careful of your hand, Nance,” Jonathan urged.

“It’s 10 am on a Sunday, I want to be sure she’s awake.”

“Yeah, Main Street’s pretty dead.” Robin looked down the alley at the vacated street.

Nancy pounded again. There was no sound of movement on the other side. Everything was still. Nancy sighed. “I’ll find a payphone and try the number on the box.” Jonathan fished in his pockets for some change and headed back out to the street.

Nancy sighed again. An idea suddenly came to her and she made to leave the alley. “Guess I’ll just stay here then?” Robin called after her.

“I’ll be right back,” Nancy assured.

It was Robin’s turn to sigh. She stepped up to the door and knocked. There was still no sign of life inside. “Hello!” she called up, not sure the dirty window at the top of the building was even accessible from the inside. “Madame Z? We have a possession emergency!”

Jonathan came back down the alley. She looked at him expectantly. “The number’s disconnected.”

“Of course, it is.”

“Where’s Nancy?”

Before Robin could reply, Nancy was heading back their way, a giant crowbar in hand. “Where did you get that?” 

“Um, Nancy . . .” Jonathan began.

The other girl didn’t say anything. She slid the crowbar into the door jam and pulled up. “Damn!” Robin whistled.

“This is breaking and entering,” Jonathan hissed. “There could be cameras.”

“Have you seen this alley? There are no cameras.” Nancy pulled on the crowbar again. The lock popped and the door jam splintered. “And this is an emergency.” She tucked the crowbar under her harm and pushed on the now unlocked door. It swung open easily. She crossed the threshold without hesitation and headed up the stairs.

“Your girlfriend’s badass, Byers,” Robin commented as she passed him.

Jonathan grumbled and pulled up the rear. He closed the door behind them, which made the stairway even dingier, if that was possible. 

“Madame Z?” Nancy called as she climbed. “We need your help. We’re friends with Dustin Henderson.”

She reached the top and pushed the beaded curtain aside with the crowbar. “Madame Z?”

The three of them stepped tentatively into the space, but there was no one there. “Madame Z?” Nancy asked again.

Jonathan quickly ducked into the other room, but there was no one there. “Guess she’s out.”

Nancy was thoroughly disheartened. “It’s Sunday morning, where could she be?” 

“Church?” Robin mused. She gently tapped the crystal ball on the table.

“Don’t touch that,” Jonathan cautioned. 

“What now?” Nancy sighed, looking around the crammed apartment.

“We could leave a note,” Robin suggested.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “That’s a great idea. Hey, we broke into your place, please call us at dot dot dot.”

“I don’t see you suggesting anything,” Robin remarked.

Nancy ran her hand through her hair. “There’s a book, right? Another book about possession? Dustin said half of it’s on a desk, and the other half . . .”

“Is in a box,” Robin finished for her. The two girls began to look around the apartment.

“I really hate that we’re touching everything in the apartment we just broke into,” Jonathan stated.

“Jonathan, honey, I’m going to need you to get over it and help us look.”

He grumbled again and began to carefully pick through a pile of papers.

Robin’s foot hit a box on the floor. “I think I found the box!” She picked it up and put it on the table to get a better look.

Nancy opened a drawer in the desk. There were two pages ripped from another book in a Ziploc bag on top. She pulled the bag out and examined the pages. “I think these are the pages Dustin was talking about.”

“Found the rest of the book,” Jonathan announced from further down the desk. “Can we get out of here now?”

“Yes, we can go.” Nancy closed the drawer. She took the pages with her. Robin hefted the box and Jonathan grabbed his stack of papers.

“What do we do about the door?” he asked as they hurried back out into the alley.

Nancy closed it as best she could. “Don’t worry about it. No one’s robbing that place.”

“We did,” Jonathan protested.

“We borrowed intellectual property. We’re proofreading for her,” Robin argued. 

They all piled back into Jonathan’s car. He moved to turn the key, but Nancy stopped him. “Wait. I want to see if she comes back.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Fine with me.” Robin got comfortable in the backseat. “We can start on a little light reading.” She pulled a handful of pages out of the box. “This starts with page 40 and the next page is 68. Great.” She sighed and began to sort.

Jonathan rested his head in defeat against the steering wheel. “We are the worst burglars ever.”

“We’re not burglars,” Nancy protested. “We’re concerned friends, and she’s a shyster. But hopefully she knows was she’s talking about.” Nancy turned the Ziploc bag over in her hands. She carefully opened it and removed the pages. They did seem to have the same handwriting, and one page looked significantly older and more worn than the other. “Along Came a Dog.”

“What’s that?” Jonathan looked over at her.

“It’s Steve’s favorite book.” Nancy turned her attention to the older page. “Charge of the Light Brigade.”

“That one has to be Lillian’s,” Jonathan mused.

What was it Dustin had said about the pages, they always wound up back together? Nancy popped the glove box and pulled out a small book of maps. She tucked one page in the front and the other near the back. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer his question just closed the book. A second later she reopened it and both pages were back together at the start. “How did you do that?”

“I didn’t do anything.” Nancy rearranged the pages and closed the book again. Robin peered over the back seat.

Nancy reopened the book and the pages were side by side once more. “Holy shit,” Robin whispered.

Thoroughly spooked, Nancy shoved the map, pages and all, back into the glove box. “Let’s see what this manuscript has to say.” She took a stack of pages from Jonathan’s lap.

“Yeah, ‘bout that, these pages are a mess. Are yours in order?”

Nancy flipped through her stack quickly. “No,” she fumed.

“Awesome. Good thing we have time to sort.” Robin hunkered down in the back seat.

Jonathan took Nancy’s hand. “I have to leave at noon, and I have to pick up Will and El first.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know if we’ll be back for Thanksgiving.” She nodded, a tear spilling down her cheek despite her best efforts. “I hate this as much as you do,” he assured her.

“I know,” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

Robin leaned up slowly. She could feel the mood in the car shifting. “You guys can give me those pages and I’ll sort, if you want to go for a walk or something?”

“Who’s going to watch for Madame Z?” Nancy dabbed at her cheeks, trying to hide her tears.

“I can put these in order and watch for someone who is sure to be obvious. I got this.” Robin accepted the rest of the pages from Jonathan and Nancy.

“Thanks, Robin.” 

“You’re a great addition to the group.” Nany looked back at the other girl, nothing but gratitude in her expression.

“You crazy kids get out of her. I have work to do.” She shooed them out the door. 

Jonathan kissed Nancy’s hand, and the two of them slid out of the car. “Young love,” Robin mused as she watched them walk off arm in arm towards the park. 

She looked back at the mess of pages in the backseat. “At least they’re numbered.” Robin licked the tip of her pointer finger and began to sort.

Plan A had stalled out on Main Street, but Plan B was in full swing a few blocks down at the Hawkins Public Library. Eleven walked around the lower level of the library. It was really a glorified basement/quasi bomb shelter that had been converted into the local history and genealogy section. El was memorizing every inch of the space, preparing for the next step.

“Are we sure the public library is the best place for this?” Lucas asked.

“It’s Sunday morning, anyone who uses the genealogy section is in church,” Dustin pointed out.

“Anyone who uses the library is in church.” Mike added.

It was true, upstairs was pretty much deserted, save for the librarian. And it wasn’t the usual librarian, she was the Sunday librarian, who only seemed to exist on Sundays. “Remember what a scandal it was when the library opened on Sunday?” Lucas mused.

“Yeah, it was hot news, until the mayor got indicted,” Mike recalled.

“And all those people disappeared under mysterious circumstances,” Lucas expanded.

“And the mall exploded.”

“Thanks for the update on current events, guys,” Dustin shut them up. “Let’s go over the plan again, shall we? Will and Max go outside. Will calls Steve from a payphone and uses his best old man voice to pose as one of his coworkers from Mooregrove Manor. He convinces Steve that there’s an issue and they need him at the house.”

“Hello, boys,” Will croaked in his old man voice.

“So creepy.” Lucas shuddered.

“If you can learn to throw that voice, you’ve got a great future as a ventriloquist,” Mike quipped.

“In my nightmares,” Lucas added.

“Steve has to drive by the library on his way to the manor, it’s the most direct route,” Dustin continued with the plan. “When he stops at the stop sign, Max will flag him down and get him out of the car by telling him I’m hurt in the library.”

“You’re pinned under a fallen shelf, got it,” Max assured.

“And we’re sure he’ll fall for that, possessed brain and all?” Mike was rightfully skeptical.

“Steve’s still in there,” Dustin protested. “I see flashes of him in his eyes and with that smirk thing he does. He’s my friend, and he’ll care if I’m pinned under a bookshelf and in mortal danger.”

“We’re putting a lot of faith in your bro bond,” Lucas commented.

“We’ve put a lot of faith in ours,” Will reminded them.

“Max will lead Steve down here at which time Eleven will be waiting in the between space for Lillian. She’ll grab her and pull them apart, and hopefully that’s it,” Dustin concluded.

Eleven joined them. “I am ready.”

Mike was anything but ready. “I still don’t like this. Nancy said it was dangerous, and I agree.”

“Nancy is wasting her time trying to reason with a loon,” Dustin enforced. “Eleven and Will have to leave at noon, and they don’t know when they’ll be back. It’s now or never, and she’s our best shot.”

Eleven took Mike’s hand. “I can do this,” she assured him.

Mike used his free hand to lovingly cup her cheek. “What if Lillian possesses you?”

“I made her a protective circle of salt; she’ll be sitting in it the whole time.” Dustin pointed to the white circle on the hardwood floor.

“Where’d you learn that?” Max asked.

“It’s basic, white magic,” Dustin explained.

“Why don’t we have salt circles?” Lucas wanted to know.

“I’m not pouring salt all over the library, and my mom only had half a container.”

“What if Lillian materializes in this room with us? What do we do then?” Mike inquired.

Dustin was getting tired of answering all these questions. Time was precious. “I don’t think she will. That’s not how it works.”

“How do you know?” Mike pressed.

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know.”

“If Mooregrove Manor is home base, she’ll probably go back there,” Max reasoned.

“Or get stuck in the between space,” Will added.

Mike put his arm around Eleven. “Don’t you get stuck.”

“I won’t.”

“As soon as they’re separated, I need to get Steve upstairs so he can see the portrait of Lillian Mooregrove hanging in the lobby,” Dustin explained. “He has to know.” They could all agree on that.

“But if Lillian shows up, I’m ready.” Lucas held up a badminton racket.

“What are you going to do with that?” Max asked.

“Go down swinging like a man,” he replied, and Max rolled her eyes.

“Maybe Will should stay outside?” Mike looked at his friend. 

“Why should I stay outside?”

“You’ve been possessed before, maybe you’re more receptive? We can’t take that chance.”

Will huffed. “That was one time. I’m not staying outside.”

Dustin looked at his watch. It was later than he thought. “We don’t have time for what ifs, we need to do this now.” 

“Right.” Will clutched the change in his hand tightly and made for the stairs.

“For luck.” Mike kissed El. She touched his face gently before pulling away and heading over to her circle of salt.

Lucas looked at Max expectantly. “For luck.” Max rolled her eyes again and gave him a quick peck on the lips. She headed up the stairs after Will.

Dustin turned off the lights and slunk down by the shelves with Mike and Lucas. Eleven tied her blindfold around her eyes and turned on the small radio by her side. Steady static filled the space. “Just because you don’t have a girlfriend doesn’t mean you have to make ours frontline defense in your schemes, Dustin,” Lucas whispered.

“Yeah,” Mike agreed.

“They are strong, independent women, and they wanted to do this,” Dustin whispered in reply.

“If anything happens to El,” Mike intoned.

“It won’t.” Dustin prayed it wouldn’t. He was praying for a lot of things at that moment.

Steve sat in his house nursing a glass of Jolt Cola and orange juice and a hell of a headache. He didn’t know if the headache was from lack of sleep, or from the feeling of anger and hurt in the pit of his stomach. He was angry at his friends for the way they’d treated Marie at the party, and he was hurt, hurt for her, and hurt for him. He thought his friends cared about him more than that.

Marie nudged his knee with her foot. She was watching him from across the couch. She’d been watching him all morning. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He reached out and took her hand. 

“You seem upset.”

“I am upset. I’m mad about last night.” Steve clutched his glass a little harder. “I – I don’t understand why they were like that. They’re never like that. There is no excuse for their behavior.”

Marie ran her thumb soothingly along his knuckles. “Maybe they’re jealous?”

Steve scoffed. He looked at her. She really was amazing. How could they be mean to her? He felt sick all over again. “I’m really sorry, Marie.”

She shook it off and kissed his hand. “That was last night. Today is brand new.”

The phone rang and Steve decided to ignore it. He leaned forward and kissed her. The answering machine eventually picked up and an old voice croaked through. Was that Sid? He sounded worse than usual.

“Steve, we have a situation at Mooregrove Manor. We need you to get over here right away.”

Steve hopped off the couch and picked up the phone. “Sid, what’s going on? Are you sick or something?”

Will coughed on the other end. He didn’t know who Sid was, but he was going to sell this. “Yes, I’m sick. Can you come in and take over for me?”

Steve looked at Marie and she nodded eagerly. “Yeah, give me fifteen minutes.” He hung up.

Marie was beaming back at him. “We can spend the day reading in our favorite place.”

Will hurried back down the stairs into the darkened room. “He’s coming. Max is on look out.” He joined Lucas and Mike hunkered down between the stacks. 

Mike let out a breath and clenched his hands out of nervousness. “I don’t know about this, Dustin.”

“We can’t back out now.”

“Lillian’s already threatened El, and Steve seems to have superhuman strength.”

“I’ve got my racket,” Lucas pointed out.

“Yeah, that’ll help,” Mike remarked.

“Shh!” El whispered harshly from her space. They all held their breaths as they continued to wait.

Steve was well on his way to work, and he couldn’t be happier about it. Last night may have been rough, but things were looking up now. He stopped at the sign just outside the library, and suddenly Max Hargrove was on his car, banging on his window and screaming. “Steve, it’s Dustin! You gotta help! He’s been crushed!”

Panicked surged through Steve’s body and he slammed the car in park and threw open the door. “What?! Slow down!”

Max took his arm and started pulling him to the library. “We were downstairs researching, and he climbed a shelf, and it fell! He’s not talking!”

“Did you call 911?!”

“Yes, but it’ll take ‘em too long, and the librarians are too old to help! You have to come!” 

Steve forgot about Marie for the moment as he hurried behind Max. She led him past the desk and down the stairs. Fortunately, the librarian wasn’t at her post right then. “Dustin!” Steve called as he stumbled down the darkened stairs. “Dustin?!”

Eleven was waiting in the between space. She saw Steve come down the stairs, and there was Lillian, right behind him. He was two steps ahead of her. They weren’t perfectly in sync, and Eleven seized on the advantage that presented.

Steve ran into the middle of the room, his eyes trying to adjust to the dim light. “Why are the lights off?! Where is he?! Dustin!”

In the between space, Eleven grabbed Lillian thoroughly with both hands by her arms. Lillian gasped and looked back. “You?!” She tried to pull away, to get back to Steve. Eleven gritted her teeth and pulled with all her might in the other direction. 

“Let me go!” Lillian screeched, but El refused. She held on as fast and as hard as she could.

Lillian’s skin started to burn and El’s hands prickled under the heat. She used every ounce of strength she had to pull Lillian back one more time. The heat began to burn. El screamed and let go. She reached up and pulled the blindfold off. She was still in the library’s basement and Mike was rushing to her side. 

“Where is she? Where is Lillian?” El looked around frantically.

“El, are you okay?” Mike took her face in his hands. “Are you okay?”

El nodded and wiped at her bloody nose. “Where did Lillian go?”

Lillian opened her eyes. She was back in the Rose Room, back in Mooregrove Manor. But how? And where was Steve? “Steve?” she sobbed. But he wasn’t there. She couldn’t feel him. Couldn’t sense him. 

Lillian wrapped her arms around her chest. It had been that girl, that awful girl from the other night. She had separated them somehow, and now she was all alone again, alone in this large house of empty rooms. 

A rage she hadn’t felt in some time grew inside her. Lillian screamed out in a primal, gut wrenching wail. The large, glass windows in the Rose Room shook and shattered all at once, the glass blowing out in every direction. The glass ceiling above reverberated and cracked down the middle.

Sid left the employee pantry and hastened to the Rose Room. “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed.

Bernice had been mending some curtains in the study. She heard the explosion and hurried over. “Oh my Lord.” She looked at Sid. “How did this happen?”

“Downburst of wind, or something.”

“What do we do?” Bernice began to ring her wrinkled hands.

“Call Larry. Call the Board. We’ve got to do something.” He pulled his jacket closer around him. “Get these windows boarded up. It’s letting all the cold air in.”

Back at the library, Dustin hurried to turn on the lights. “Is everyone okay?” Max asked from the stairs. “Is Steve all right?”

Steve was standing still in the middle of the room, staring out at nothing. He looked like he had that night they’d inadvertently summoned Lillian. Dustin waved his hand in his friend’s face. “Steve, are you in there?” He snapped his fingers in Steve’s face. “Steve?!” He clapped his hands forcefully and Steve blinked. His eyes focused slowly, and he looked at Dustin. The younger boy breathed a large sigh of relief and greeted his friend with his largest, gap toothed grin. “Hey, buddy.”

“Dustin?” Steve looked around the room in confusion. “Why am I in the library?” He noticed Max on the stairs and the past few minutes started to come back to him. “Are you hurt?” He looked back at Dustin.

“I’m fine.”

“But Max said you were under a shelf, that it’d fallen.” Steve looked at all of them standing there. “Where’s Marie?”

“Steve, we’ve gotta talk. There is no Marie,” Dustin began.

Steve’s confusion turned to anger. “That was some shit trick to play, making me think you were hurt. And after you treated Marie like crap last night at the party.”

“No, Steve, there is no Marie. She doesn’t exist, or she did exist once, but . . .” Dustin should have rehearsed this part better.

“Did you dickheads scare her off?” He stared them all down. “Marie?!” Steve moved for the stairs, but Dustin grabbed his arm.

“Marie is Lillian Mooregrove and she’s dead!”

Steve stopped. The look he gave Dustin was somewhere between disgust and loathing. “That is a sick thing to say. You all should be ashamed.”

“It’s the truth, you’re dating a ghost,” Lucas spoke up.

Steve backed away from them. “I’m out of here, and you pricks better not follow me.”

“No, Steve, you can’t.” Dustin moved for him again and Steve flinched.

“I’m going to find my girlfriend and go to work.” He started up the stairs, Dustin hot on his heels.

“That wasn’t work. Will called you pretending to be work!” Dustin managed to grab the sleeve of Steve’s jacket at the top of the stairs.

“Let me go, Dustin!” Steve whirled around on him, looking like he might actually deck the younger boy. Dustin knew he wouldn’t, not really.

“Hey, boys, take it outside! This is a library!” the librarian called from her desk.

“Does your girlfriend look like this?!” Dustin managed to push Steve in the direction of the portrait hanging in the lobby. 

Steve fought his way out of the younger boy’s grasp and looked up. There was Marie, his Marie, looking right back at him. Steve gasped. His eyes instantly went to the name plaque at the bottom of the portrait. Lillian Marie Mooregrove. Steve’s brain had to remind him to breathe. He didn’t seem to have any control over his limbs, though, and he stumbled back, falling over a cart of books behind him and crashing to the floor.

“Steve!” Dustin reached down to help him up, but Steve crawled away from him. He scrambled to his feet, never once taking his eyes off the portrait.

Dustin was super concerned for his friend. He was pale and sweaty, almost like he was going into shock. Yeah, Dustin really should have broken the news in another way, but Steve had to know. Maybe now that the band aid had been ripped off, they could talk?

“Boys!” the librarian called again. “You have to leave!”

“Steve,” Dustin begged. “Let’s go somewhere and talk.”

The older boy shook his head and backed out of the library, almost falling backwards down the front steps on his way out. Once outside, he turned and ran for his car still parked by the stop sign. Dustin ran after him. The others had left the basement and were not far behind him.

“You can’t go back there, Steve! You can’t go back!”

But Steve didn’t listen. He hopped in his car and floored it before Dustin could do anything about it.

“What do we do now?” Will asked.

“Grab your bikes!” Max declared.

The librarian stormed out after them. “All right, I’m going to need all your names. I’m suspending your privileges.”

“We were never given names!” Lucas shouted as they descended the stairs.

They pulled their bikes out of the bushes and climbed on. “Dustin, come on!” Mike shook his friend’s arm. Dustin snapped into action and clambered aboard his bike, praying to whatever god that might be listening they weren’t too late.


	20. Promises to Keep

Chapter Nineteen

November 17, 1985

Promises to Keep

Steve’s car sped down the road as fast as his thoughts were tumbling through his mind. Fortunately, it was a Sunday morning in Hawkins and church hadn’t let out, so there were very few cars on the road. (And no sight of the police.) A million questions were swirling in his head as the scenery flew past. Was it true? Was Marie really Lillian Mooregrove? How was it possible? Why hadn’t he realized it sooner?

Steve thought back on their relationship as he pushed the peddle down a little further. Bits and pieces started to click into place, the way Marie dressed, the way Marie spoke, the things she liked, the things she didn’t understand. More telling was how Marie never wanted to talk about her family, her home, her future. Steve gasped and his foot let off the gas. He could feel his heart slide into his stomach, and he was filled with an overwhelming sense of melancholy. It was true. Marie was Lillian Mooregrove, and she was a ghost. Somehow, he knew it to be true. And if he was honest with himself, he’d known for a while, but he’d looked the other way.

Then he had a new, terribly sobering thought. What if someone had helped him look the other way, influenced his thinking? He had said things, made promises, and the full implication of those words were now bearing down on him. Steve’s throat tightened, but he drove on. He couldn’t stop now. If this were a movie and he was watching it, he’d scream at the person to go back. Don’t go in the house! But this wasn’t a movie, and Steve still felt obligated to Marie, or Lillian. Too much had been shared and said to cut and run now. That was the problem with horror movies, they were too black and white, when the truth was always a million shades of gray.

Steve parked his car in the familiar lot and stepped out. Nothing had changed there, but the house felt different. It was no longer a sanctuary on a hill. Now it seemed like a . . .specter? No, that wasn’t the right word, but Steve approached it with apprehension as opposed to his usual joy.

There was a commotion coming from the front of the house, and Steve cautiously walked around. He froze in his tracks as he took in the shattered windows of the Rose Room. Shards of glass glistened like so many broken promises on the front lawn. Had he caused this?

Sid fought his way out the front door dragging a push broom. He looked up and saw Steve, and it was the happiest he’d ever been to see the younger guard. “Why are you here?” he asked. “Doesn’t matter, clock in and grab a broom.”

“What happened?” Steve managed to speak.

“Damndest thing, all the windows exploded at once. Did you feel a gust of wind downtown, like a big one?”

Steve shook his head, the sense of dread in his core continuing to rise.

“Don’t just stand there,” Sid chastised. “Larry’s comin’ with some plywood. We gotta get these boarded up. Bet they’ll close the house ‘till the glass gets replaced.”

Sid set to work on sweeping the glass off the porch. Steve slowly raised his eyes up to the top of the house. The curtain to Lillian’s bedroom was open. Steve blinked and there she was, standing in the window, staring down at him. Marie’s face lit up and she touched the window, voicing his name. Steve gulped. At least she looked happy to see him.

With trepidation, Steve entered Mooregrove Manor, but he didn’t go and clock in. Instead, he let his feet take him to the hall closet and the hidden staircase that led to the third floor. The door of the bedroom was open and waiting for him, as Steve knew it would be. He hesitated only a moment before stepping into the room. He left the door cracked behind him, not letting it shut completely. For the first time, he didn’t feel safe in the house.

Marie turned to face him, her smile so wide and hopeful. It hurt Steve’s heart to see it. Marie saw his face, the apprehension in his brow, the stiffness in his body, and her expression instantly changed. The mood in the room shifted, and the temperature seemed to drop a good ten degrees.

“You know,” Marie spoke at last.

“Yes.”

She looked away, tears playing at the edges of her eyes. Steve took a brief second to contemplate that ghosts could cry. It was somehow the saddest thing he’d ever seen. “I was going to tell you,” she explained once she was finally able to look at him again. “I wanted to tell you.”

Steve had so many questions. “You told me your name was Marie. Why?”

She wiped at her eyes and shrugged. “I didn’t want to be Lillian anymore, and I didn’t know how long this would last, the magic that brought me to you. I thought Marie might stand a better chance.”

“You made me think you were alive.” Steve felt lied to, betrayed almost, like they were this normal couple that had suffered a setback. It made no sense. Nothing about this was normal, but it didn’t change the way he felt.

Marie was taken aback. “I never lied to you, Steve. And I’m still the same person I was then. Marie, Lillian, it’s all me.”

Standing in this room with her, Steve was angrier than he thought he’d be. “Have you been influencing me?”

“What do you mean?”

He ran his hand through his hair and leaned back against the wall. He didn’t want to lean against the door. It was still his only out. “I keep thinking about the party. I remember getting out of the car, but then it goes fuzzy. I just remember being angry at my friends for the way they treated you, but are those my memories, or yours?”

Marie’s face was strangely expressionless. “You told me I called the shots.”

Steve swallowed hard. “You possessed me?”

“Where you go, I go,” she stated firmly, her voice breaking on the last word.

“I didn’t know what I was agreeing to,” Steve protested.

Marie moved closer, and he flinched. She halted, the look on her face pure anguish. “You agreed to be with me, and I agreed to be with you. What we have, our bond, it transcends time. It transcends death, and I don’t understand it, but I know we must fight for it. We can do that, right? We can figure this out. You said we would figure it out.” She was practically pleading. A part of Steve wanted to take her in his arms, but he maintained his distance.

“Did you do that, downstairs, to the windows?” He had to know, because that scared him.

“I didn’t mean to,” Marie sniffled. “But that girl separated us, and I was back here alone.”

“That girl is my friend,” Steve stated. He took another breath. “Have you been turning my friends against me?”

Marie’s expression darkened. “Your friends are trying keep us apart,” she practically spat, but her tone quickly softened. “They don’t understand our love. But if we can figure this out, I can get to know them better, and they’ll know me, and they’ll see.”

“See what?” he hesitated to ask.

“You and I were meant to be together.”

Her earnest eyes were boring a hole through his resolve, and he had to look away. “I need some time to think,” Steve replied. He reached for the door handle, but it jerked out of his hand. The door slammed shut and the lock turned on its own.

“You don’t get to leave.” Marie’s voice was almost manic behind him. The room was even colder now, and Steve could see his breath coming out in panicked puffs. “Turn around,” she pleaded. He didn’t comply. “Turn around!” she shouted, and Steve slowly turned. He did not recognize the woman standing before him. Everything sunny and cheery about her was gone.

“I have been here before,” Marie slowly began, picking her words oh so carefully. “Henry Miller promised me the world. He said he loved me. He asked my parents for my hand, and he proposed to me, right down there in the Rose Room. That fall, he left to fight in the Great War, but when he returned, he no longer wanted to be with me. He broke our engagement, but I never got to see him. And I - I’ve always wondered, would he have been able to say it to my face? Would he be able to tell me he no longer loved me if he was looking me in the eyes?”

Marie slowly approached Steve, and he wanted to sink into the floor. He wanted to be anywhere else in the world, but he had no choice. All his actions had led him here to this room. Marie stopped in front of him. She wasn’t touching him, but her eyes had him pinned to the spot. An entire world of pain and sadness danced in those eyes, and there was no way he could fix it. In fact, he was only going to make it worse.

Steve closed his own eyes for a second, praying she wouldn’t ask him, but he knew she would. “Steve, I love you. Do you still love me?”

And there it was, and he couldn’t answer her. A part of him wanted to say no and be done with it, but that wasn’t the truth. There was still a part of him that cared for her deeply, but he couldn’t say yes. It was too much, and he needed some time to think, time to process all this. “Marie . . .” he whispered.

Her expression was dark again. “You know my name. Say it,” she instructed.

“Lillian,” he tried again. Steve looked her right in the eyes, pleading silently for her to understand. How did he explain this in words? He took a breath. “Lillian,” he tried a third time and his voice was so shaky.

Lillian’s expression darkened further. “No!” She held up her hand and suddenly Steve was plastered to the wall, unable to move. He opened his mouth to shout, but he couldn’t talk.

Lillian stood before him, a threatening presence. All semblance of the woman Steve had loved was gone in that moment. “You listen now. You made promises to me. Promises,” she screeched. The sound of it hurt his ears. “I have been alone in this house for sixty-six years. I watched my family live their lives without me. They replaced me with two boys, forgot about me! And then they left this house, and it was so dark and quiet. People eventually returned, but not for me, no one ever saw me. Until you.”

Marie drew closer. Steve wanted to flinch away, but he couldn’t move. He imagined this was what sleep paralysis felt like, a waking nightmare. She placed her hand gently on his chest. There was still a tenderness to her touch, despite her anger. “You came and you pulled me from the dark. I could touch you. I could smell you. I could taste you.” Her hand clutched his shirt and tightened into a fist. “All these feelings I hadn’t had in years came back to me.” She looked up at him, and her accusatory look was damning. Steve managed a weak whimper. “Who are you to pull me out of the dark, only to put me back again?”

Lillian released his shirt, but she didn’t step away. Steve tried desperately to communicate through his eyes. The girl he loved was still in there somewhere, he knew she had to be. But that girl was buried deep beneath years of pain and suffering and anger. “You made me promises,” Lillian repeated. Her voice was foreign to Steve’s ears. “We’ll never live alone again. We’ll figure it out. We’ll make it work. You call the shots.”

Each word was like a dagger to Steve’s heart. He had said those things. There was no denying it. Lillian placed her hand on his hand, but the rush he usually felt when they touched was gone. This burned, like hot splinters were being shoved under his fingernails. Steve opened his mouth in a silent scream as the terrible burning sensation spread through his body.

“Where you go, I go,” Lillian invoked. “A gentleman keeps his promises.” She gripped his hand tighter, and it was the worst pain Steve had ever felt in his life. “I refuse to be alone anymore.” He wanted to pass out, but he couldn’t. The blinding pain continued until it consumed him completely.

Outside Mooregrove Manor, Dustin and his friends were engaged in a heated battle with Sid the security guard. “We’re closed on Sunday! So, get!”

“But our friend Steve works here,” Dustin protested. He was trying hard to ignore the busted windows, but it was right there in front of them, this giant, gaping hole.

“Shit,” Lucas expressed as he looked at it.

“Lillian,” Max whispered to the others.

“That can’t be good,” Mike replied. El tightened her grip around his waist on the back of his bike.

“Yeah, that’s bad,” Will agreed.

“I don’t care if you’re friends with the Pope. We’re closed, and I’m busy.”

A beat-up truck pulled into the employee lot, several pieces of plywood sticking out of the bed.

“I need to see Steve, it’s an emergency!” Dustin shouted. He didn’t care if he sounded unhinged.

“You kids can’t be here!” Larry spoke up as he grabbed a piece of plywood from the back of his truck and headed their way. Sid shot Dustin a pointed look.

Dustin would not be deterred. “I just need to see Steve and we’ll go.”

“Steve’s here?” Larry looked back at the employee lot, and yeah, there was Steve’s car. “That’s handy. You kids really need to get.”

Dustin gritted his teeth. “Not until I see my friend.”

The door to the house opened and Steve stepped out, his shoes crunching on the broken glass. Dustin’s relief died in his throat. This wasn’t his friend. This was someone wearing a Steve suit.

“Steve, do you know these kids?” Larry asked him.

Steve looked at them and a chill ran down Dustin’s spine. El ducked behind Mike, and he tried to sit up as straight and strong as he could.

“I have never seen them in my life.”

“Go on, get!” Sid shooed them with his push broom.

“Go home,” Larry added.

With a flick of Steve’s wrist, their bikes scooted back a fraction of an inch. They all struggled to maintain their balance. Steve's eyes were cold as he stared down at the group. “You heard him, go home. Leave this place. There is nothing for you here. Nothing.”

Mike turned his bike and left. The others followed, with Dustin lingering a moment longer. He stared back at his friend, but there was not an inkling of Steve left. “Dustin!” Will called, and the other boy finally capitulated. With a grunt, he turned his bike and rode off.

“Little harsh, Harrington,” Larry remarked, “but it did the trick.”

“The groundskeeper used to shoot at trespassers,” Steve spoke absentmindedly. He was still watching the kids as they rode away.

“Amen to that,” Sid agreed.

They rode until the house was out of sight. Dustin stopped and jumped off his bike. He couldn’t go any further. “Shit!” he called, letting his bike tumble over into the ditch by the road. “Shit!”

“What do we do now?” Max asked.

Dustin was frantic. “We regroup. We come up with another plan, and we, we do it again. But this time we don’t let him leave. We tie him to a chair, or a bed, or . . .”

“The cabin in the woods was destroyed,” El pointed out.

“We have a tool shed,” Lucas offered.

Dustin pounced on the idea. “Yeah, that’s a start, and we’ll get some chains.”

There was a beeping noise and Will looked at his watch. “11:30, we’ve gotta get back.”

“What? No!”

“We have to leave.” Will sounded as despondent as Dustin looked.

“Stall, find a way to stay!”

“We can’t.”

“You have to!” Dustin screamed.

“This is the last thirty minutes El and I have together, and I’m not spending them here.” Mike made to leave, but Dustin grabbed his handlebars.

“No! No one is leaving until we figure this out!”

Mike knocked his kick stand down and stepped off his bike. “Why? For Steve Harrington?”

“What does that mean?”

“He went back there, Dustin. Maybe he wants this? Maybe he’s happy? Maybe it’s a fairy tale and they’ll live happily ever after?”

Dustin was seething. “Have you read the original Grimm’s fairytales? Everyone dies!”

“Oh, you can read those, but you can’t read the whole séance book,” Mike quipped.

“Mike,” Max cautioned.

“You got yourself into this mess.” Mike crowded close to Dustin, and for a second the other boy backed down. “You’re not risking El’s life anymore for Steve.”

“He’s a part of the team,” Dustin argued.

“Since when?”

That did it. Dustin reared up and punched Mike square in the jaw. Mike grabbed his shirt and soon the two of them were screaming at one another and wrestling to the ground. The others shouted and were able to pull them off one another.

Dustin kicked out as Max and Will pulled him back. “Let me go!” He wrenched himself out of their hold and moved away quickly, putting distance between himself and the group. “Steve saved your ass!” Dustin pointed a shaking finger at Mike. “He saved your ass and your ass!” He pointed at all of them.

Tears began to well up in the back of his throat, but he swallowed them down. “Lillian’s right, we’re not good friends.”

Without another word, Dustin collected his bike and rode off. They called after him, but he refused to turn around. He continued alone.

Dustin’s bottom lip was bleeding by the time he entered his house. It wasn’t from the fight, it was because he’d chewed it all the way home, trying so hard not to cry. “Dusty, there you are,” his mother chirped as he closed the front door. She stepped out of the kitchen to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Will had to leave." But that wasn't it.

“Oh, honey, I know you miss your friend.” She made to comfort him, but the phone rang. Claudia bustled back into the kitchen and answered. “Hello? Yes, he’s here. Hold on a moment.” She poked her head around the corner. “Dusty, it’s one of your friends.”

Dustin perked up. Maybe it was Mike? Maybe he was calling to apologize? He was mad at his friends, sure, but he still needed them. He needed them more than ever. Dustin grabbed the phone. “Hello!”

“Dustin, bad news.” It was Robin. “Madame Z was a no show. We did get the book, and there’s some interesting stuff in here.”

“Okay. Thank you, goodbye.” Dustin hung up the phone. He left the kitchen and walked numbly to his room.

“Dusty, are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled.

As soon as the bedroom door closed behind him, Dustin broke down. He turned on the radio to drown out the noise of his sobs, not wanting his mother to hear. Who did he turn to now? He had no Mike, no Lucas, no Max, Will, or El. He had no Steve. He may never have Steve in his life again.

Dustin looked at the cork board above his desk. The flyer for the father/son baseball game was prominently displayed. With a wave of fresh sobs, he ripped it off the board and threw it on the floor. The world felt like it was crumbling in on him and it was suddenly very hard to breathe. He fished his inhaler out of his fanny pack and took a few good puffs. He could breathe a little better, but the world was still terribly off kilter.

The piggy bank on his desk caught his eye. Without much thought, Dustin wrenched the plug out and dumped the pig’s contents. Maybe if he could get the money, maybe Madame Z would see him? She was the only shred of hope he had left, which meant he was pretty much hopeless.

There wasn’t even ten dollars in the mess on his desk. With a curse, Dustin stormed out of his room and to the garage. The shelves out there were well stocked with cans of soda. He popped one and began to chug. When it was finished, he tossed it in the aluminum collection bag. He’d made a quick buck this way before, but he couldn’t pour them out anymore, his mother was wise to that and he was still in hot water for the book report.

Dustin chugged another can. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the car’s rearview mirror, and he looked desperate. Was this really his best plan? A fresh wave of sorrow crashed over him, and he choked on his sobs as he continued to down the soda.

There was a knock on the garage door, and he jerked. “Dustin, it’s Max. Open up.”

He ran his sleeve across his mouth and his eyes and pressed the remote to raise the door. Max was standing there, a jar filled with coins of every type in her hands. “Your mom said you were out here. What are you doing?”

“Drinking soda to get some money.”

Max nodded and stepped inside. She presented him with the jar. “Billy could be a real pain in the ass, but I would have given any amount of money to save him.”

Dustin accepted the jar with reverence. “Thank you.” He knew how hard it was for Max to talk about her brother.

Max looked away, trying to hide her tears. “Whatever. It’s not enough, but it’s a start.”

Dustin sniffled. “Do you know how much it is?”

She laughed. “No. I haven’t counted it in months.”

“We can count it now.” Dustin set the jar down and unscrewed the lid.

“Hey,” another voice spoke up. Dustin looked outside and there was Mike and Lucas.

“Hey,” he replied.

They left their bikes outside and stepped into the garage. They each emptied their pockets, producing a small amount of bills and change.

“I still think we’re short,” Max surmised.

“That’s okay. We have options.” Dustin pulled off another can and offered it to Mike. His friend accepted it and an unspoken apology was shared between them. Dustin handed the other can to Lucas.

“Yes, grape, I love this flavor,” Lucas exclaimed.

The three of them began to down their sodas as Max started to count.


	21. Madame Z’s Emporium of Mystery

Chapter Twenty

November 18, 1985

Madame Z’s Emporium of Mystery

Lucas looked around the darkened alley off Main Street. “What are the chances we’re gonna get murdered here?”

“Three to one,” Mike commented. 

It was dark by the time they’d made it to the door of Madame Z’s Emporium of Mystery. School got out at three, but they’d had lots of stops to make. There was the scrap yard to turn in the cans, the bank to convert their change to dollars, and then back to the bank where Dustin had to convince his mother that grandma would have wanted him to have that $50 savings bond at this time. Even after all that, they were still $14.02 short, but Madame Z was just going to have to deal.

Dustin pounded on the familiar door. “Madame Z! It’s Dustin, the precocious child who visited you the other day!”

Max pointed out the splintered door frame. “What happened there?”

“Here’s hoping she hasn’t been murdered,” Lucas remarked.

Mike shifted anxiously on his bike. “My mom thinks we’re getting pizza. We are getting pizza after this, right?”

“With what money?” Max asked.

“Oh yeah.” Mike’s heart sank a little, and his stomach grumbled.

“Should we have brought Nancy or Robin with us?” Lucas asked.

“I don’t need Nancy’s judgement right now, and Robin has class.” Dustin pounded on the door again. “Madame Z! We have your money!”

A few seconds later, they could hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. A lock was turned on the other side and the door opened. Despite the money comment, Madame Z was not pleased to see Dustin. She wasn’t pleased to see any of them. “Did you come to steal something else?”

Dustin was taken aback. “No, I brought your money.”

“Did you bring back my book?”

His brief phone conversation with Robin came back to Dustin’s mind. “Yeah, that wasn’t us. But I know who it was, and I’ll get it back for you.”

“There’s more of you out wondering in the wild, great,” Madame Z quipped. “No book, no deal.”

Max stepped forward. “Listen, lady, we busted our ass getting this money together. So, you’re going to take it and you’re going to help us!”

Madame Z sized her up. She raised a hand in capitulation. “Fine. I’ll help you.” Dustin’s sigh of relief was more audible than he’d intended it to be. “It’s admirable, how committed you all are to your friend. You’re like the Goonies, only more annoying.”

“Why does everyone compare us to that movie?” Lucas asked Mike. It had been constant since the movie had hit theaters that summer.

“It’s getting old,” Mike agreed.

“I will help you, with the understanding that you will return my book.” Madame Z gave Dustin a pointed look.

“I swear a million times over, I’ll get your book back.”

“Does that mean we get to keep the money?” Mike was hopeful.

“No, I have bills to pay. This isn’t a charity case.” Madame Z snatched the envelope with the money from Max. “This is $150, right?”

“$135.98,” Dustin hesitantly replied.

“I said $150.”

“I drank my weight in soda, lady!” Mike objected.

Madame Z sighed. “Fine, come in. This way into Madame Z’s Emporium of Mystery.”

They stashed their bikes behind the dumpster and followed her up the stairs. Madame Z tucked the money away in a kitchen drawer and encouraged them to gather around the claw foot table. There were two very familiar books on that table. They were the books from Steve’s house, from his desk. 

“How’d you get these?” Dustin demanded.

“I went to observe your friend the other day.” Madame Z began to rummage around her apartment, searching for something.

“How’d you know where he lived?” Max asked.

“And who he was?” Dustin added. He had not given Madame Z any specifics about Steve.

“I have my ways,” she coyly replied.

Lucas ran his hands around the crystal ball. “She saw him in this,” he whispered to his friends.

Max noticed a phone book on the floor. She picked it up. Tucked inside was a list with the names of the Mooregrove Manor security guards. The phone book was dogeared at their addresses. She showed it to the group. Lucas was disappointed.

“You broke into his house?” Dustin was appalled.

Madame Z looked back at him. “Hey, you don’t get to judge here. And your friend left the door unlocked when he hurried out. I locked it for him after I got what I needed, so you should be thanking me.” She found what she was looking for, a small, wooden chest. She brought it over to the table. “I had to replace my pages, which were also stolen from me.”

“They were my pages first,” Dustin grumbled. 

“Man, Nancy and Robin are badass,” Max murmured.

“You said you saw Steve?” Dustin was willing to forgive the rest for her expert opinion. He was way out of his depth, and every step he’d taken had only made things worse. He needed help, even if it came from Madame Z.

“Yes, and he is very much possessed. I saw him again at Mooregrove Manor, boarding up the busted windows, and he was even more possessed. You tried to pull them apart, didn’t you?”

Dustin sunk down in his chair. “Yes.”

“Separating a living person from a possessing spirit is a delicate process. You do it the wrong way, and you open the door for shock. The living person can’t process what has happened to them, and nine times out of ten, they’ll run right back to the where the spirit abides. It’s like a safety blanket.” Madame Z began to pull little jars of dirt out of the chest. She took a handful of dirt from each jar and sprinkled them in little piles across the table.

“Ghosts aren’t like demons. They’re people who got stuck, couldn’t move on after death for whatever reason. When they possess a person, they’re always after something. The best way to get your spirit to leave, is to figure out what she wants, help her get it, and hopefully she’ll make the decision to release your friend.”

“We can do that.” Dustin felt a little bit of hope returning. Compared to some other challenges they’d faced, that didn’t sound so bad.

“Yeah, well, it would’ve been easier before you royally pissed her off. Lillian Mooregrove is aware you’re trying to separate them, so she’s going to keep your friend on lockdown. You made your job twenty times harder.” Madame Z wasn’t pulling any punches. Dustin felt his stomach drop again. He looked a little sick, and Max reached over to squeeze his shoulder in support.

“But it’s not impossible, right?” Mike asked.

Madame Z looked at him. “Nothing is impossible, except coming back to life after you die. That’s impossible.”

“What’s with the dirt?” Lucas wanted to know.

Madame Z pointed at each pile. “Earth of the living. Earth of the deceased. Earth of the passed on.”

“How is that different from deceased?” Max inquired.

“Deceased is dead, but not at peace. This is a spirit who still walks the plane of the living. Passed on is someone who has died and found peace after death.”

“Where do you get the dirt?” Lucas gently poked the pile in the middle.

“Park, cemetery, and sacred ground,” Madame Z replied, and Lucas drew his hand back. 

“The cemetery?!”

Madame Z ignored him. She tore two new pages out of Steve and Lillian’s books. She began to fold them. “What’s most interesting about this case, I think your friend and Lillian might have been soulmates in another life. But time and fate can be real bitches.” Madame Z had folded the pages into paper airplanes.

“Are we going to fly those?” Mike asked.

“No, that would be dumb.” Madame Z took the plane made from Lillian’s book and placed it on the table. The plane shook for a second, like a breeze had blown across its wings. A second later, the plane moved forward on its own. It slid across the table and straight into the pile of cemetery dirt.

“Holy shit,” Lucas expressed.

“Freaky,” Mike added.

“Deceased but not passed on.” Madame Z took the plane made from Steve’s book and placed it on the table. It slid through the pile of living dirt, but then it kept going. It stopped between the living and deceased piles, and Dustin did not like that at all.

“What does that mean?”

“It means your friend’s still alive, but he has a foot in both worlds.”

“Oh no,” Dustin moaned. He really had made a mess of everything.

Madame Z decided to cut him a break. “But it’s not all bad. I’ve seen worse, and it should be worse given this level of possession. That means Lillian truly cares for your friend, and she’s finding ways to preserve his energy. She doesn’t want to kill him, but she does want to keep him forever . . .which will kill him eventually anyhow. It’s a vicious cycle.”

That hadn’t made Dustin feel better at all. “I’m saying you have a little time,” Madame Z added.

“What about the third pile?” Max asked.

Madame Z moved to take off one of her many rings. “This was my grandmother’s. She died a bitter woman, but she passed on. She was so over this world, not even Jesus himself could have gotten her to stay.”

Max quickly removed the gold chain from around her neck. “Use this.” She held it out to Madame Z.

“All right.” Madame Z accepted the chain and placed it on the table.

Lucas didn’t say anything, but he put his hand on Max’s knee. That had been Billy’s necklace, and he knew what she was searching for. They all held their breath with Max as the chain slid across the table. It landed softly but soundly in the third pile. Max let out her breath in a sob. Lucas wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

Madame Z picked the necklace up and shook off the dirt. “A loved one?”

“My brother.”

Madame Z placed the chain gently back into the girl’s opened hand. “He’s at peace.”

Max nodded and fought back tears. Lucas gave her another hug, and she let herself be held for a moment longer.

“How do we help Lillian find peace?” Dustin asked.

Madame Z finally sat down at the table. She pulled Lillian’s book over and began to flip through it. “Lillian is searching for something she didn’t have during her life, or at least something she thinks she didn’t have.”

“Love?” Dustin remembered Robin had said something about love in Mike’s basement.

Madame Z returned to the inside cover of the book. She held it up for them to see. “For my dearest Lillian. Love, your Lancelot,” Mike read.

“Someone did love her.” Dustin sounded confused.

“Yes, but who was this Lancelot, and why did Lillian die believing she was all alone in this world?” Madame Z closed the book and leaned back in her chair. “Find the answers to those questions, and I’ll help you prepare your exorcism ritual.”

“Why do our conversations involve exorcism rituals?” Mike asked of the universe.

“How do we get those answers?” Lucas wanted to know.

But Dustin already had the solution. “To the library!” he exclaimed.

“It’s after six, they’re closed,” Mike pointed out.

“To the library tomorrow,” Dustin amended.

Madame Z looked back at the planes on the table. “I would work quickly. Find what you can and bring it to me by Friday. We don’t want to wait past this weekend to free your friend.” 

“Got it.” Dustin nodded. He started to stand, but Madame Z reached out for his arm.

“And you cannot see him in the meantime, do you understand?” Dustin squirmed, but she stopped him before he could protest. “It will be hard, but you have to keep your distance. If Lillian sees you, she’ll get angry, and her energy will spike, and when her energy spikes . . .”

“Steve gets hurt,” Dustin replied.

“Do your research and keep your head down.” Madame Z looked at all of them, making sure they understood. “And bring my book back on Friday. If your friends plagiarize any part of it, I’ll see their asses in court.”

“I’ll get your book,” Dustin assured.

As they made to leave, Mike’s stomach growled loudly, and Dustin turned back. “If I bring your $20 on Friday, can we get $10 of that back for pizza?” He pointed sheepishly at the drawer where Madame Z had stashed the money.

She stared at them long and hard, but she eventually caved. “I hate this damn town,” she hissed as she opened the drawer and pulled out a ten.


	22. To the Library!

Chapter Twenty-One

November 19-21, 1985

To the Library!

When the school bell rang on Tuesday, Dustin and his friends headed straight for the library. They had roughly eight hours over the course of the next four days to find the answers they were looking for. To complicate matters further, it was the week before Thanksgiving, meaning their teachers still cared about their schoolwork. If it had been one week later, no one would have cared. Why couldn’t Steve have waited a week to get all possessed? The timing was very inconvenient, but Dustin had to hand it to his friends, they weren’t complaining about it, at least not too much.

The usual librarian Ms. Marissa was there to greet them as they hurried in from outside. “Got a big group project?” she quipped.

“Yep,” Dustin replied. “Local history. We’ll be downstairs.”

They made to leave, but she stopped them. “Before you go, Ms. Wilma had an interesting story from Sunday. Some kids caused quite the scene. She wrote down their descriptions.” Marissa picked up a piece of paper from the desk. “Do not permit this gaggle of hooligans back into the library. Seven youths, five boys, two girls. One curly haired boy. Two boys with bowl cuts. One red haired girl. One . . .” She looked at Lucas.

“Chocolate dream,” he filled in for her.

She nodded awkwardly and continued. “One older male with a head full of hair and one, younger girl who obviously suffers from nosebleeds. Do you know anyone meeting those descriptions?”

“Sounds like a rough bunch,” Dustin commented.

“If you all go down there, am I going to have any problems?” Her librarian eyes burned holes through them.

“You won’t even know we’re here,” Dustin assured.

“Uh huh.” She shooed them with her hand. “Go on. Do your research.”

The group headed down the stairs. “I don’t have a bowl cut,” Mike incredulously remarked. “Will has a bowl cut. Do people think we look alike?”

“Kind of,” Lucas replied.

They stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked around the genealogy section. It was weird being back in the space after all that had transpired there just two days ago. Had it only been two days? Dustin felt tired. It seemed like two years had passed instead.

“Where do we start?” Max asked. None of them had any experience with this section of the library.

Dustin took a breath and assumed charge. “We need to divide and conquer. I need someone to research Mooregrove Manor.”

“On it!” Lucas raised his hand.

“I need someone to research Lillian Mooregrove.”

“I can do that,” Max offered.

“We need general Mooregroveian history.”

“I guess I’ll help with that,” Mike commented.

“Great.” Dustin took another breath and looked at the stacked shelves. “We can do this.”

They were about to make for the books, when another set of feet came down the stairs. Bernice stopped halfway down. There was never anyone else in the genealogy section, especially not kids. “Marissa,” she called up the stairs, “there are some youth down here.”

“They’re allowed to be down there, Bernice,” Marissa called back.

“This isn’t a make out area,” Bernice told them, obviously not convinced by the librarian’s vouch. 

“No, we’re doing research for a school project,” Dustin hurried to explain.

“Oh, well, that’s delightful.” Bernice’s demeanor changed in an instant. “Who are you researching?”

“The Mooregrove family,” Max informed.

Bernice melted, as if they’d said the sweetest words in the world. She made her way carefully down the rest of the stairs and joined them. She looked like she wanted to cry tears of joy. “I work at Mooregrove Manor.”

The kids exchanged looks. Finally, their luck seemed to be turning.

“It’s closed right now, due to repairs,” Bernice explained sadly.

The kids exchanged another look.

“What do you need to know?” The older lady eagerly wanted to help.

“Everything,” Mike replied.

“We’re especially interested in Lillian Mooregrove,” Dustin added.

Bernice clasped her hands and tottered over to the shelves. Soon, she had them seated at the table with a pile of books stacked between them. Max had a giant, bound volume of The Hawkins Post in front of her. It covered the years 1900-1920. (That was back when the periodical was a weekly, as opposed to a daily.)

She turned a large page. “Man, chickens were big news in the early 1900s. Jeremiah Potter has thirty-five chickens on his farm this year,” Max read. “The O’Leary farm lost three chickens to a fox last night.”

“Chickens were important.” Bernice added more books to their stack. Mike let out an audible sigh.

“Miss Kirkpatrick went to visit her sister in Evansville. She took the train,” Max read on. “This paper was in everybody’s business.”

“It’s like my mom’s party line,” Lucas remarked.

Max sat up a little straighter and pointed to a column. “Mr. & Mrs. Quincy Mooregrove welcomed a baby daughter this past Sunday. Her name is Lillian Marie Mooregrove in honor of Mr. Mooregrove’s mother.” Max looked up at the header. “December 20, 1900.” 

“Terribly cold winter,” Bernice commented. “Course, I wasn’t alive to see it, but I’ve heard about. Some people speculate that’s what weakened that poor girl’s constitution.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Dustin smiled. For a moment, he dared to feel hopeful. Two hours later, that feeling had disappeared once again. He’d read paragraph after paragraph about the Moorgerove family, but it was all very sanitized. He knew all about the family business, the electrification of Hawkins, their two sons Pete and Sam. He knew what the family invested in to that very day, but he knew nothing more about Lillian. The only things the books said about here was that she lived and then she died. In a way, it made Dustin understand her loneliness a little better, but it did nothing to help with their assignment. A birth date and a death date added zero to his quest to prove someone had loved her.

Max seemed to be the only one of them making any sort of progress. About thirty minutes after she’d found Lillian’s birth announcement, she made another discovery. “Mr. & Mrs. Mooregrove’s daughter is currently suffering from fever. This is March 21, 1903.” Max found another, similar announcement in 1905 and again in 1907. After that, it was like Lillian disappeared from the family.

They had less than thirty minutes left, and Dustin was getting frustrated. He thought they’d be further along by now, and Bernice had clearly abandoned them. She’d gone upstairs to use the bathroom, but she’d been gone a long time. Dustin pushed his book away with a scoff. “I don’t care that Sam Mooregrove owns stock in IBM.”

“Man, the Mooregroves threw a lot of parties.” Max turned another page.

Dustin placed his head in his hands. “Any more about Lillian?”

“Not since 1907,” Max replied, and Dustin sighed. He looked up at Mike and Lucas. They were looking at the same book and seemed to be engaged in their own conversation.

“What’d you guys find?” Dustin asked.

They looked up and shuffled their papers, covering their book. They looked caught. “Nothing,” Lucas spoke.

Dustin wasn’t buying it. He reached across the table and grabbed the book before they could close it. “This is an encyclopedia.” He glanced at the spine. “This is the P’s. It’s not even related.” Dustin looked down at the page they’d been reading. It was all about possession, the different kinds, common beliefs on the topic, and known cures. Dustin’s eyes were instantly drawn to the image of a woman who’d died in a failed exorcism. She didn’t even look recognizable as a person. He shoved the book away from him in disgust.

“It was demonic possession,” Lucas hurried to qualify.

“And Will came out okay,” Mike added. 

That terribly guilty feeling was weighing on Dustin again, and he was frustrated his friends had strayed from their assigned topics. “I need you guys to take this seriously. The P encyclopedia tells us nothing about the Mooregroves.”

Mike scoffed. “We know everything about the Mooregroves, and we still know squat about Lillian.” He pointed an exasperated hand at all the books.

Max snapped her fingers and called their attention to her. “Mr. & Mrs. Quincy Mooregrove are pleased to announce the engagement of their daughter Miss Lillian Marie Mooregrove to Mr. Henry Sherman Miller, son of Mr. & Mrs. Bernard Miller. The couple plan to marry in the fall. February 15, 1917.”

Dustin jumped up and ran over to look at the paper. Hope started to creep back in oh so slowly. “Hello, Sir Lancelot.”

Unfortunately, the library had to close for the day, and they had to leave. But they had a name, and that’s where they resumed their search on Wednesday. Bernice was back with them, too, acting as the Sherpa of the family files.

“Bernice, do you have anything on the Miller family?” Max inquired.

“Which Millers?”

“The Bernard Millers?”

“Oh, yes.” She disappeared for a minute behind the stacks and came back with a folder of information.

Max opened the folder and began to sort through its contents. Dustin was on newspaper duty that afternoon. “Is this him?” Max held up an old photo for Bernice to see.  
“Henry Miller was notoriously handsome.”

Max showed the picture to the guys. “He’s all right.” Lucas shrugged.

She looked at the picture. “I think he’s handsome.”

“He’s probably dead,” Lucas added.

Max rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say I wanted to date him.”

“Yes, he’s dead,” Bernice assured.

Dustin recognized the slicked back hair style in the photo. It made his stomach feel uneasy. He turned his attention back to the paper. 

“Looks like he’s wearing a uniform,” Mike commented.

“Today, ten of Hawkins’ best and brightest left town for training in Mississippi,” Dustin read. “Henry Miller’s name is on the list.”

“He served his country proudly in the Great War. About 130 men from Hawkins served,” Bernice imparted. “Most of them were young boys, of course, much too young for war.”  
Dustin scanned the next several pages, but Henry’s name was not listed among the dead or missing that the paper ran in late 1918. “He didn’t die in the war.”

“No, he died in 1970 at Richmond State Hospital.” Max held up a copy of his death certificate she’d just found in the family file.

“Why didn’t he and Lillian get married?” Mike asked.

“She died before they could.” Bernice clucked her tongue. “Such a tragic tale.” The older lady looked at her watch. “If you’ll excuse me, children, I need to visit the upstairs for a bit.”

Dustin took the death certificate from Max. “That doesn’t make any sense. If they were still engaged, why did Lillian think she was alone?”

“Maybe he broke off their engagement?” Mike hypothesized.

“Yeah, but why?” Max wanted to know.

“Hold up.” Lucas sorted through the books on the table to find the one he was looking for. “Did you say Richmond State Hospital?”

“Yes.”

Lucas found what he was in search of. “Richmond State Hospital,” he read. “Also known as East Haven, also known as the East Indiana State Hospital for the Insane.”

“And the plot thickens,” Mike quipped.

Thursday came, and they still didn’t have their smoking gun, just little bits and pieces that didn’t add up. “Hey, I have that info you asked for,” Marissa spoke as they entered. She handed a piece of paper to Max.

“Henry Sherman Miller, patient from February 2, 1919 until May 23, 1970,” Max read. “Thank you so much!”

“How did you get this?” Lucas wanted to know. Wasn’t this kind of information confidential?

“I’m a librarian, I have my ways.” She winked at Max and the kids hurried downstairs.

“So, Lillian kills herself and he goes crazy?” Mike proposed.

“Or he’s crazy before she kills herself, and that’s why they call off the engagement,” Lucas expanded.

“What if the war made him crazy?” Max added. “Lots of terrible things happened over there.”

It still wasn’t coming together for Dustin. “But Lillian would understand that, right? She’d be bummed, but she’d understand why he couldn’t marry her.”

“I’m sure the Mooregoves didn’t want their daughter marrying a loon,” Mike remarked.

Max chewed on her bottom lip. “What if Lillian didn’t know the reason? What if her parents broke it off and didn’t tell her why? They controlled every other part of her life.”

“Oh, you children are here again.” Bernice was happy to see them as she descended the stairs. She had a rather large stack of papers in her arms. They all stepped up to help. “My, you all are so nice. It’s so good to have young people down here. It’s so good to have anyone down here.”

“What’s this stuff?” Mike asked.

“Updated information for the family files. Eunice usually does this, but she can’t be bothered. Do everything, Bernice,” she grumbled as she took the papers from them and placed them on the table. “No doubt they’ll expect me to manage the library book sale again come spring.” She sighed, already tired. “I have a full-time volunteer gig, thank you very much.”

“Bernice, do you think the war could have made Henry Miller insane?” Max asked the direct question.

The older lady was a bit taken aback. “I suppose so, but I’ve never heard that. I know he left town soon after Lillian’s untimely death. Not sure what happened to him after that. None of those Millers are left to ask. They’re all dead. Which reminds me.” She sorted through the new papers and pulled out a xeroxed copy of a family tree. “This is for you, for your project.” She passed the paper to Dustin.

“What is it?”

“An updated family tree for the Mooregrove family. Heather Mooregrove sent it in this weekend. She’s married to Pete’s oldest; I believe.”

The kids looked at the family tree as Bernice busied herself with her papers. The tree looked very similar to ones they’d already seen, but this one had two new names. There was Jackie, Sam’s newest wife. And then there was a familiar name that almost made them do a double take. Pete’s son had a daughter that been added to the tree, and her name was Lillian Mooregrove.

“He named his daughter Lillian.” Dustin was shocked.

“Of course, he did. It’s a family name.” Bernice was surprised that they were surprised. 

“But the Mooregroves didn’t even like their daughter,” Dustin argued.

Bernice looked offended. “They loved Lillian. Mr. & Mrs. Mooregrove were devastated when she died.”

“They had a funny way of showing it,” Max remarked.

“They kept her locked up all the time,” Lucas pointed out.

Bernice was not having any of this. “She was sick. It was a different time. People didn’t show emotion the way they do today, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t love her.” She clasped her hands and wrung them a few times. Her eyes kept looking at the back of the room behind the shelves. She was obviously struggling with a decision. 

Dustin picked up on that. “Prove us wrong,” he challenged.

“I have sources, archival sources, but I’m not supposed to share them,” Bernice vacillated.

“We’ll help with the book sale in the spring!” Dustin was desperate.

“Wait right here,” she instructed. She gave them all a calculated look before she disappeared behind the shelves. 

Lucas hit Dustin on the arm. “The book sale?!”

“It’s so lame,” Mike protested.

“We’ll deal with it come spring,” Dustin enforced.

A few minutes later, Bernice was back. She carried a locked metal box in her hands. She placed it on the table and motioned for them to come close. “The Mooregroves are a very private family. You are not to share what you read in these letters in your report. Do you understand me?” Her tone was firm and threatening. They nodded. “But I can’t have you presenting them as bad parents.”

Bernice removed a key from the chain around her wrist and opened the box. “Mrs. Mooregrove exchanged a number of letters with her younger sister Minerva. She moved to Hawkins when Lillian was five, and she remained in town after the Mooregroves left for Missouri. When Minerva died, the letters were brought here. She never married and didn’t have any children, but Sam and Pete were clear that these letters were to be saved and not shared.”

“Have you read them?” Dustin wanted to know.

Bernice fidgeted. “Only one or two, but they’ll show you how deeply the Mooregroves cared for their daughter. I’ll give you thirty minutes with them.” She looked at her watch. “I have to excuse myself and go upstairs, but I’ll be back,” she assured them. “Damn water pills,” Bernice muttered as she climbed the stairs. “What kind of geniuses build a bomb shelter with no bathroom?”

As soon as she was out of sight, the kids tore into the box. “Scan the letters, look for anything about Lillian, about Henry,” Dustin instructed.

The first letters were nothing but recipes and life hacks from the early 1900s. Dustin was ready to despair again when Max called out. “December 18, 1918. My dearest sister, Henry is finally home from the war. He was discharged from the hospital in New York, but he is no better. The doctors thought he might improve at home, but that is not the case. He is constantly plagued by waking nightmares and prone to fits of melancholy. Just the other day, he tried to scratch his skin off when a truck backfired on the street. The Millers had to put socks on his hands and sedate him with cough medicine. I fear what this means for his engagement to Lillian. She has missed him so, and she cannot understand why his letters and gifts have stopped. I do not know how to tell her these things. Soon it will be her birthday, and she will know something is wrong when she does not receive word from Henry. Mrs. Miller says he does ask about her often, but in the next breath he despairs his current state and claims he is no longer the man she deserves. How do I explain this to her? Her health is not the best. She is so frail, and I fear the news would be a devastating blow. The doctors are concerned she may have influenza, despite our best efforts. If I tell her Henry is ailing, she will rush to his bedside, but she cannot leave our home right now. What to do?”

“Jackpot!” Lucas exclaimed.

“Write it down!” Dustin fished paper and pencil out of his backpack.

“What?”

“Write it down! We have to write it all down.” Max took the paper and pencil and began to write as quickly as she could. “Hurry, before she gets back.”

“Make sure you can read it,” Lucas commented.

“Shut up and concentrate on your own work,” Max retorted.

Mike pulled a paper and pencil from his backpack, too. “What did you find?” Lucas wanted to know.

“The holy grail,” Mike replied. “January 23, 1919. My dearest sister, I do not know how to begin this letter. We have suffered the greatest loss any parent can face. Our sweet Lillian is gone. There was a terrible accident. Even now, I do not know how to explain it. I will never purge the image from my mind, the image of my beloved husband holding her lifeless body in the Rose Room.”


	23. The Dotted Line

Chapter Twenty-Two

November 22, 1985

The Dotted Line

Come Friday evening, Dustin was feeling pretty good, which was miles away from how he’d felt at the beginning of the week. They had the evidence they needed and then some. Even Madame Z was impressed with what they’d been able to find. Lillian had clearly been loved, by Henry Miller, by her parents. More than anything, it had been a terrible lack of communication and shitty luck that had brought her to her fate. Dustin reminded himself to tell his mother he loved her when he got home.

Madame Z had everything she needed. Dustin had paid her the $20 back. (He’d gone to every neighbor and done every favor he could, but he’d gotten the $20 together.) She had all the pieces required to prepare the exorcism ritual. She’d even practiced the ceremony with them more than once. Things had really come together, and she hadn’t asked for any additional money.

“Where’s my book?” Madame Z looked expectantly at Dustin.

Correction, there was one more piece they needed, but it was on its way. “It’s coming,” Dustin assured her.

“It better be.” She let it slide for a moment longer. “In the meantime, look over this contract.” Madame Z produced a rather lengthy document and placed it in front of Dustin.

“Contract?”

“This is a business. Businesses have contracts.”

“Whatever. I’ll sign it.” Dustin wasn’t going to argue over semantics now, not when they were so close.

“You can’t sign it, you’re not 18,” Max pointed out.

“Who’s gonna check?”

“No, she’s right,” Madame Z agreed. “But I’m hoping you have an adult on the way, yes?”

At that moment, a knock sounded from below. Dustin breathed a sigh of relief. There was Robin. Mike jogged down the stairs and let her in, but Robin wasn’t alone.

“Unbelievable,” Nancy announced as she stepped through the beaded curtain and saw all of them standing there. “I knew you little shits were sneaking around. This completely violates our constitution.”

“We haven’t written it yet,” Lucas remarked.

“Is constitution the right word?” Mike wondered. “More like agreement, or charter.”

“Code of conduct,” Lucas offered.

“Code of stop being dipshits,” Nancy enforced.

“Why didn’t you tell us what you were up to?” Robin asked Dustin. He couldn’t worry about her hurt feelings right now. There were more important matters at hand.

“I’m sorry, but it was an emergency. Do you have the book?”

Robin dropped the box unceremoniously on the couch. Madame Z rushed over to it. “My baby, you’re back.” She gave Robin a threatening look. “If I ever see a piece of this published elsewhere, I will sue your ass to the moon and back.”

“I corrected your typos, and collated your pages,” Robin relayed, her tone dripping in anger. “You’re welcome. Also, you have terrible subject verb agreement. And tenses, pick a tense and stay there.”

“It’s a rough draft,” Madame Z defended.

“Robin, I need you to sign this.” Dustin passed her the contract.

“What is this?”

“Sign it so Madame Z can exorcise Steve. We got all the info she needs. Turns out, Lillian was loved by a lot of people, but they were all awful at telling her that. We’re going to perform the ritual tomorrow.”

“Who’s we?” Nancy wanted to know.

“Madame Z and the four of us.” Dustin pointed to his friends.

“No no!” Nancy was quick to shoot that idea down. “You all are not setting foot in that house.”

“The ceremony needs a minimum of four people,” Madame Z explained.

“Not them. Use us.” Nancy pointed at Robin. “And we’ll get Jonathan back here.”

“You’re a liability,” Madame Z spoke.

“We’re a liability,” Robin said at the same time.

They stared at each other for a moment. Madame Z let Robin continue.

“You dated Steve once. Lillian already sees Jonathan as a threat, and even though I am nowhere near interested, I am a female of a threatening age in Lillian’s mind.”

Madame Z nodded. “You did read my book.”

“Once I got past the atrocious grammar, I learned a thing or two.” Robin pointed at Dustin. “Crazy as it sounds, the kids’ younger age offers them some protection. Steve will fight harder to make sure nothing happens to them.”

“He’d fight for us,” Nancy protested.

“Yeah, but Lillian would pull harder punches. Remember what happened to Jonathan at the party?”

“Let me see that.” Nancy snatched the contract from Robin. She poured herself into it, as if the secret to life rested inside those pages.

Lucas raised his hand. “I would appreciate it if everyone stopped calling us kids.”

“Stop acting like kids, and we’ll stop calling you that,” Nancy retorted.

“Why’d you bring her?” Dustin asked Robin.

“Mike told me.” Nancy waved her hand in the direction of her younger brother.

“Mike,” Lucas hissed at his friend.

“She was worried about Steve. I had to tell her,” Mike protested.

“She held you down on your bed until you caved, didn’t she?” Max figured it out. Mike refused to comment.

“We’re all worried about Steve, and you should’ve included us sooner.” Robin gave Dustin a pointed look and he ducked his head. “But here we are, wherever this is.”

“Where we are is ready to free your friend from his ghostly pal,” Madame Z reiterated.

“We’ve got it covered.” Dustin sounded so sure.

Robin’s eyes narrowed on Madame Z. “And you’ve told them everything, the terrible two minutes, all of it?”

“What’s the terrible two minutes?” Dustin did not like the sound of that.

Madame Z sighed. “The first two minutes of the ritual can be very hard. The spirit is confused, the possessed person is confused.”

“Yeah, you said that.” Dustin shifted nervously on his feet. “What’s the terrible part?”

“Lillian isn’t going to just hand Steve over and step away. We have to draw her out at first, and it won’t be the most pleasant sensation for your friend.”

“That’s an understatement,” Robin remarked.

Madame Z let out an annoyed grunt but continued. “It feels like a dislocated joint. It hurts at first, but then it’s fine once it’s popped back into place.”

“You said it was a delicate process,” Dustin protested.

“It is a delicate process. I never said it was painless. It’s controlled, which you idiots failed to do the first time.” Madame Z took a breath and regrouped. “Once we get through the first two minutes, it’ll be smooth sailing. Now sign the contract, and we’ll be good to go.”

Nancy shook her head. “We’re not signing this.” She turned to page two. “Madame Z will own all rights to this story for any future book, television, or movie script ventures,” she read. “You’re in this for the money.”

Madame Z didn’t even feign offense. “Damn straight, honey. I want my TV special. I want my time in the spotlight.”

Dustin was more than a bit affronted. “You’re still going to help us, right?”

“If a legal adult signs that piece of paper.”

“I don’t want you using my name in your next book,” Lucas protested.

“No one will read it,” Mike whispered to him.

“I can change the names, idiots.”

“Hey, only we can call them that,” Robin fired back.

Nancy turned to page four of the contract. “Madame Z is not responsible for any injury, dismemberment, or death incurred by the possessed individual or any of the participants in the ritual.”

Madame Z scoffed. “You get in a car every day, right? You ride the roller coaster at the county fair. You get in an airplane. Everything in life is a risk.”

“Have you ever lost anyone in this ceremony?” Max hesitated to ask.

“No,” Madame Z replied with confidence.

“See.” Dustin was more than ready for this discussion to be over.

“Tell them about Leroy Dills,” Robin demanded of Madame Z.

“Who’s Leroy Dills?” Dustin looked at her, and he didn’t care for the expression he saw on Madame Z’s face.

She took another moment before answering. “A possessed man I tried to help with my mentor. I was an apprentice then, and not in charge of the ceremony. Things did not go as expected and Mr. Dills unfortunately died.”

“A cautionary tale, that’s what you called it, right?” Robin’s voice was beyond icy.

“But you said we were good,” Dustin pressed Madame Z. “You said we had everything we needed.”

Nancy rolled the contract up in her hand. “You know what I think? I think you’re a charlatan. You’ve convinced these kids there’s no one else in the world who could possibly help them.”

Madame Z didn’t respond. She brushed past Nancy and walked to the claw foot table. The dirt and paper planes were still on the table from earlier that week. She picked up the plane made from Steve’s book and placed it back at the edge of the table. It wobbled for a minute and then took off. This time, it stopped closer to the middle pile, the earth of the deceased. It was much closer to Lillian’s plane.

“What does that mean?” Robin asked.

“It means your friend is dying.”

Dustin’s reaction was immediate. “Robin, please sign the contract. Please, please, sign it.”

“It’s a magic trick. We’ll figure it out.” Nancy started looking under the table. Mike and the others attempted to dissuade her.

Dustin was freaking out. His heart was pounding in his head and it was hard to breathe. “Steve’s gonna die, and it’ll be my fault. And I, I can’t live with that.” He started to hiccup in despair, and it was the saddest noise Robin had ever heard.

Robin snatched the contract from Nancy and grabbed a pen from Madame Z’s desk. She shoved the paper against the wall and signed on the dotted line. “Robin!” Nancy protested, but there was no going back now.

Robin pushed the signed document into Madame Z’s chest. “It won’t be on you, Dustin. It’ll be on me.”

“Thank you,” Dustin whispered.

Madame Z looked at the contract and smiled. “We’re good to go. Tomorrow night, 8:00 o’clock at Mooregrove Manor.”

Nancy stepped forward. “We will be outside in our car, and if anything goes wrong, we will be calling 911.”

“Fine.” Madame Z tucked the contract away in one of her desk drawers. She handed a key to Nancy. “Would it make you feel better to be keeper of the key?”

“What is this?”

“The key to Mooregrove Manor’s employee entrance.”

“How’d you . . .?” Nancy started to ask.

“One of their security guards eats breakfast down at the diner every morning. Sid’s a great friend now. He’s also careless with his keys, so I had some copies made.”

“You’re a thief,” Nancy spoke, her voice thin and angry.

“Pot, kettle.” Madame Z was unfazed. She looked at Dustin. “Tomorrow at 8:00.”

“Got it.”

The older woman looked at them all expectantly. “You can leave now.”

Nancy scoffed and lead the way out. They were all silent as they descended the stairs and stepped out into the alley.

“Robin,” Dustin finally began.

She held up her hand and silenced him. “Don’t. Not right now.” Robin walked off alone.

Dustin felt guilty, and he swallowed hard.

“Night. See you guys tomorrow.” Lucas picked up his bicycle and rode off.

“Night,” Max echoed. She hopped on her bike and rode off with him.

“Dustin, call your mom and tell her you’re spending the night with us,” Nancy instructed.

“Why, so you can spy on us?” Mike was suspicious.

“No, because your friend shouldn’t be alone tonight.” Nancy walked off towards her car.

Dustin picked up his bike and rode off with Mike. At that moment, he was eternally grateful for Nancy Wheeler.


	24. Scenes from a Saturday in Indiana

Chapter Twenty-Three

November 23, 1985

Scenes from a Saturday in Indiana

8:17 a.m.  
Steve walked into his house, a possessed man on a mission. Lillian didn’t have time to tarry. They had to be back at the manor before Larry arrived for his shift. Steve was always harder to control outside of Mooregrove Manor, but there were things he needed that the old house couldn’t provide. He needed a change of clothes, and there was a certain outfit Lillian had spied in a back closet that she really wanted to grab on this trip. She wasn’t sure if it was Steve’s or not, but she knew he’d look handsome in it. She just needed twenty minutes to restock, get back, and tuck Steve away in the attic where he was spending his days resting. 

Steve grabbed a duffel from his closet and began to fill it. He stopped in the bathroom and grabbed some toiletries, things that Lillian remembered living people needed. On the way back to the front door, they stopped in the kitchen and grabbed what was left of the Jolt Cola. Then, the phone rang.

Before she could stop him, Steve picked up the phone. The only sound he could muster was an odd squeak. “Steve? Is that you, darling?” his mother asked.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice even and controlled.

“Your father and I are thinking of going to the Caymans for Thanksgiving. You probably can’t go because of work, can you? How is that going, by the way? I’ve called the last few days, but no one’s answered.”

“I am very busy.”

“That’s nice. You sound good. We’ll be back the first of the month, all right? You have enough money?”

Steve wanted to scream so badly, but he couldn’t. His cry stained against his chest, trapped inside. His top teeth wore into his bottom lip, making it bleed. 

“Do you have enough money, honey?” Mrs. Harrington asked again.

“I have everything I need. Do not worry about me.” Steve hung up the phone with a shaky hand. He hefted the duffel bag and walked straight out of the house.

2:20 pm  
“You can do this,” Dustin told his reflection in his bathroom mirror. “You’ve got this.”

Spending the night at Mike’s had been a nice distraction, but now he was back home for a few hours and his nerves were starting to creep in. But he wasn’t going to let them get the best of him. He was going into this ceremony tonight with so much confidence, it would bowl Lillian Mooregrove right over.

“You possessed your friend, you can un-possess him.”

The phone rang in the kitchen. “Mom, phone!” Dustin called out. The phone kept ringing. That’s right, his mother had stepped out to run some errands. Dustin hurried out of the bathroom and caught the phone on the fourth ring.

“Hello?” He was expecting to hear the voice of a relative or friend. His Aunt Carol was due in town any day now. Dustin was not mentally prepared for that visit.

The boy had not been expecting the answer he received. “This is a call from the Porter County Jail. Please hold.”

“Porter County Jail?”

A moment later, he heard a familiar voice, and his stomach dropped straight through his body and flopped on the floor. “Is this Dustin Henderson?”

“Madame Z?”

“I don’t have much time, listen. I got in a little trouble in Porter County.”

“Why are you in Porter County?” Dustin wasn’t even sure where Porter County was, but he thought it was up near Lake Michigan.

“I was looking for Diana of the Dunes.”

“Diana of the Dunes?! We have the exorcism tonight!”

“What, you think you’re my only client?” Madame Z barked in defense.

“When will you be back?”

“Tomorrow. Hold off until tomorrow. It’ll be fine,” she assured. There was the sound of a mild scuffle on the other end and a rough voice Dustin couldn’t make out. “What do you mean the judge is out till Monday?” He heard her ask, and then the line went dead.

Dustin stood there; shell shocked. He numbly hung up the phone, not sure of what else to do. The first thing that hit him was the nausea, and he ran back to the bathroom to part ways with Karen Wheeler’s famous baloney and potato chip sandwich. 

3:05 pm  
Miles away in Evansville, the Byers’ apartment was anything but cheery. It was downright gloomy in the third-floor walk-up. El stared out the window at the street below. Will tried to distract himself with a comic book, but he’d read the same page at least five times. Jonathan stepped out of his room and they both looked at him expectantly. They knew he’d been on the phone with Nancy.

He ran his hands nervously over his jeans. “They’re doing the ceremony tonight.”

“What time?” Will asked.

“8:00.”

They all looked at the clock. They still had five agonizing hours to wait.

El huffed and flopped down on the couch. “That’s too long,” she complained. She smacked her hands on the couch and two, family photos fell from the wall.

Jonathan darted forward and caught them. “Sorry,” she sighed.

“No, it’s good your powers are coming back. Just, uh, take it easy on the photos.” He considered rehanging them, but then decided against it and set them on a nearby shelf instead.

“Your control should get better with time,” Will assured her.

El stretched out on the couch and stared at the ceiling. She was in the same state as Mike and her friends, but she couldn’t do anything to help them. She may as well be in another country, or the Upside Down. “I hate this.”

“We all hate this,” Jonathan added.

The door to the apartment opened and Joyce Byers walked in. “I’m home.” She placed her purse on the kitchen table and walked into the living room. She had exciting news. Too bad no one else in the apartment seemed to be in the mood to receive it.

Joyce took in the three, forlorn faces and the tense body language. “Geez, what’s wrong with you all? You’ve been the mopiest bunch since you got back from Hawkins.”

They looked at one another, not sure what to say, or who should say it. They’d decided to leave their mother out of this. Joyce would only worry, and there was nothing she could do about it from Evansville.

“Steve was sick when we came home,” Will spoke up. “He’s not any better. Dustin is really worried about him.”

“Yeah, I just got an update from Nancy,” Jonathan confirmed.

Joyce’s mothering instincts kicked in. “Is he in the hospital?”

“Not yet,” her eldest replied.

She could tell this was really bothering them. El looked back at the ceiling and took a deep breath. A cup on the coffee table started to move, and Will reached out to grab it. Joyce clapped her hands. Fortunately, she had news that should bring them out of their doldrums. “I think we should go check on Steve in Hawkins.”

“What?” Will let the cup go and it slid off the table and into the floor as El sat up.

“Surprise! I’m off through Thanksgiving, and I already talked to the Sinclairs, and we can stay in their guest rooms. You’re only missing two days of school. They’ll be some make up work, but . . .” Joyce realized she was talking to herself. Her three kids were already out of the room, grabbing suitcases and shoving clothes in them as quickly as they could. This was the quickest they’d moved in days.

She patted herself on the back. “Good job, Joyce.” Her car keys were still in her hand. She looked at them with a bit of trepidation. “Here’s hoping the car is up to the trip.”

5:32 pm  
Dustin pedaled his bike down Main Street as quickly as he could. His backpack was a little heavier than usual, but he wasn’t lugging schoolbooks. No, he was carrying every tool his garage had to offer. One of them was sure to get him inside Madame Z’s apartment. After his vomiting session and the subsequent dry heaves, he’d made an important decision. They were not postponing the exorcism ritual. It was going on as planned. Madame Z had walked them through it. She said they needed four people, and they had four people. All he was missing was the evidence they’d collected and left with her. 

If you really thought about it, they’d done everything else. What had Madame Z done for them, except hit them up for money and get herself arrested? Okay, she had imparted some wisdom, but now the students were going to have to be the teachers. 

As Dustin turned down the familiar alley, he hit his brakes and came to a sudden stop. There were other people in the alley. He recognized one of them as the girl who worked in the hair salon, and he was pretty sure the other lady worked in the diner. They had been kneeling in front of the door. It looked like they were trying to pick the lock.

The women stood as soon as Dustin pulled into the alley and moved away. For a moment, they all stared at each other. “What are you all doing?” he finally asked.

“Smoking.” The hair salon girl fished a cigarette out of her smock and pretended to light up.

“Were you all picking the lock?” They shook their heads no and didn’t say a word. 

Dustin removed his backpack and dropped it on the ground. It landed with a metallic thud. “Because I have tools that could help with that.”

“Damn woman has been swiping my tips for weeks,” the waitress grumbled. “And I know she took Sid’s wallet.”

“She stole my watch,” the hair salon girl added. “What’d she take from you?”

“My homework.” Dustin parked his bike with a huff. “And my friend.” He pulled his backpack across the gravel and to the door. He unzipped it, and the three of them set to work. 

7:23 pm  
“When will the mechanic be back in?” Joyce asked again. She ran her hand over her face. If she tried hard enough, maybe she could keep her headache at bay? There was no way she could get her kids to stop staring at her, though, boring holes in her back with their eyes. 

The gas station attendant chewed on his gum and looked at the dirty calendar hanging on the wall. “If I give him a call, he might be able to stop in tomorrow after church, take a look at it.” The attendant chewed his gum some more.

“Can you give him a call, please?” Joyce asked, her patience wearing thin.

The attendant got a final, good chew in before swallowing. “All right.” He stepped into the back.

Joyce turned slowly and looked at the group behind her. She tried her best to smile. “Temporary delay.”

“Temporary?” Will took objection. “The guy said tomorrow, maybe.”

“I can’t help it’s Saturday night,” Joyce defended.

“We need to check on Steve,” El insisted.

“And we will,” Joyce assured. “Hawkins is like an hour away, if that. We’re a lot closer than we were.”

“But we’re stuck here in the middle of nowhere,” Jonathan protested. Joyce gave him a look. She was hoping at least her oldest would help her out. He was adult enough to know things just happened, especially to them.

“I didn’t plan for the car to break down.”

The attendant stepped back out. He popped another piece of gum into his mouth. “George will stop by tomorrow after church.”

Joyce turned back to face him. “Great.”

“Should be between two and three. It’s potluck Sunday.”

The three of them groaned behind her. She swallowed down the scream that wanted to escape her throat. “It has been a really long day. Is there a hotel near here, somewhere we could stay the night?”

The attendant pointed right behind them, straight through the mud caked front window. “The It’ll Do is right across the street.”

They all looked, and they didn’t like what they saw. Still, any port in a storm. Joyce sighed. “Thank you.”

She motioned for the others to follow her. They grabbed their suitcases and walked like they were all traveling to their deaths. “Mom, can you call the Sinclairs, or the Wheelers, see if they can pick us up?” Jonathan asked.

“No,” Joyce’s response was firm. “They’re already doing enough for us. I’m not dragging them out here tonight. We’ll get the car fixed and be in Hawkins tomorrow. A few more hours won’t kill anybody.”

7:45 pm  
Lillian finished combing Steve’s hair back. “There.” She placed the comb down and leaned back to look at him. She was right, that tuxedo did look exceptional on him, even if it was his dad’s. It reminded her of the suit Henry Miller had been wearing the first time he’d strolled into the Rose Room.

“Oh, hold on.” Lillian took her handkerchief and wet it. She dabbed lightly at the cut on Steve’s bottom lip from where he’d bitten it earlier. She wiped the dried blood away as best she could. “You can’t do that, my love.” Lillian touched his cheek with concern. “You have to trust me.”

Lillian set the handkerchief down and placed her hands-on top of his. He stared at her, unable to do much more at that moment. “We’re getting better at this, right? It’s getting easier?” Lillian didn’t know if she was trying to convince him or herself. “I can feel when you’re getting tired, and we take breaks.” That reminded her. She put a Jolt Cola with a bendy straw in his hand. She pushed his hand up toward his face. “I remember this makes you feel better.”

Eventually, Steve started to take little sips, much to Lillian’s relief. She rested her hand on his knee and watched him. “We get to spend all our days and nights together. Larry doesn’t look in the attic. I think this is working.”

A stray tear slipped from the corner of Steve’s eye and slid down his cheek. Lillian reached up and brushed it away. “We will figure it out day to day, all right? And it will get easier. I promise it will.”

Lillian distracted her thoughts by selecting a book from the pile behind her. “Would you like me to read to you?”

Steve couldn’t reply audibly, but his eyes softened as much as they could in his current state. Lillian nodded and opened the book. She curled into his side in the window seat and began to read.

8:00 pm  
Nancy Wheeler looked out her front windshield at Mooregrove Manor. Dustin had deemed they had parked a safe enough distance away. “I still don’t like this,” she voiced.

“We know,” Dustin told her.

“You’re sure Steve is working tonight?” Robin asked.

“Yeah, I ran into Sid earlier today. He said Steve took all his shifts until the windows are fixed. It’s too cold for Sid’s bursitis or something.” Dustin handed Robin a walkie talkie. “I’ll radio you once we’re in place.”

“Where’s Madame Z?” Nancy asked.

“She’s meeting us at the back door.”

“She’s probably lurking in the woods,” Robin remarked.

Dustin hurried on to the next topic. “Don’t radio us during the ceremony. You might set Lillian off. Give us twenty minutes . . .”

“Twenty minutes!” Nancy protested.

Dustin talked over her. “Twenty minutes to get set up, get Steve in the room, and perform the ceremony. The lights may flash, the power may go out, but it’s normal. Got it?”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Nancy clutched at her stomach.

“Radio us in twenty minutes, and if we don’t respond, get help.” Dustin took a breath. “But we’ve totally got this, and we’re going to get Steve back.” He grabbed his backpack and exited the car with purpose.

The others started to follow. Nancy reached back and grabbed Mike’s hand. “Be careful,” she told him. “All of you please be careful.”

“We will,” Mike assured her.

As the kids exited and grabbed their supplies out of the back, Nancy squirmed in the front seat. She looked at Robin. “Do you smoke? Why don’t we smoke?”

“Hell, if I know.”

Less than three minutes later, the group was up the hill and at the employee entrance. “Where’s Madame Z?” Max asked.

Dustin slipped the key silently into the lock. He had to tell them the truth now, and he had to do it fast. “She’s in jail. She’s not coming.”

“What?!” Lucas hissed. 

“We’re doing this,” Dustin enforced.

“This is a bad idea,” Mike spoke up. “I’m going back.”

Dustin grabbed his arm. “No, I need you all to believe with me. We have what we need. We’ve studied this. I’ve done my research this time. We summoned a ghost without even trying last time. Think what we can do when we believe?”

“But Madame Z . . .” Lucas began.

“Won’t be out of jail in time to help us or save Steve. We are his only chance,” Dustin pleaded. He pointed at Max. “Do you believe?”

“Yes,” she replied with confidence. There was no way their group was losing another member on her watch.

“Do you believe?” Dustin pointed at Lucas.

He looked at Max and back at Dustin. “Yes.”

“Do you believe?” They all looked at Mike.

He took a breath and replied, “Yes.”

“We can do this.” Dustin turned back to the door and turned the key.

8:13 pm  
Upstairs on the third floor, Lillian turned the page and read on. 

“His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;  
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;  
From underneath his helmet flow'd  
His coal-black curls as on he rode,  
As he rode down to Camelot.  
From the bank and from the river  
He flash'd into the crystal mirror,  
"Tirra lirra," by the river  
Sang Sir Lancelot. 

She left the web, she left the loom,  
She made three paces thro' the room,  
She saw the water-lily bloom,  
She saw the helmet and the plume,  
She look'd down to Camelot.  
Out flew the web and floated wide;  
The mirror crack'd from side to side;  
"The curse is come upon me," cried  
The Lady of Shalott.”

From downstairs came a soft sound. Lillian paused and looked up. It sounded like music.

“Do you hear that?”

Steve found he could turn is head on his own volition. There was a noise, and it did sound like music, but that made no sense. The ghost of Mooregrove Manor was currently sitting beside him.

“Is that music?” Lillian set the book aside and left the window. She walked slowly towards the open door.

Steve felt his fingers and then his hands. He set the soda down. He could feel his toes, his feet, and his legs. He stood slowly. At first, he thought about jumping out the window, taking his chances with the ground below. But then he heard the music again, and he realized who had to be behind it. Steve’s throat tightened and his heart clenched in his chest. He had to warn them, no matter what it cost him.

Steve bolted for the open door, running past Lillian. “Dustin, get out of here!” he screamed. “Get out of here!”

He almost made it to the top of the stairs when Lillian popped out of the final room on his right and grabbed him. Steve crashed into the wall and stumbled down the first few steps. 

Below, Max put her hand on Dustin’s shoulder, holding him in place. They were assembled in the Rose Room, ready to go. The Victrola wound down beside them, just enough music to get Lillian in the room to investigate. What Dustin hadn’t anticipated was Steve’s reaction. He hadn’t expected Steve to call out to them, for his friend to try and save them. Max’s look was firm. Dustin couldn’t leave. They had to wait.

Dustin winced as he heard someone clearly falling down the stairs. Silence followed, and they all held their breaths. Then came the sound of footsteps walking down the stairs with grave intent.

“Ready?” Max mouthed to Dustin.

He nodded, and the four of them slunk back into the shadows of the darkened room.


	25. The Fall of the House of Mooregrove

Chapter Twenty-Four

November 23, 1985

The Fall of the House of Mooregrove

Steve’s body moved slowly but purposefully into the Rose Room. Lillian was on high alert. The room was dark. No one had bothered to turn the lights on since she’d blown out the windows. The slats of wood made it even darker in the large room, the only light coming from above as the moon shone down through the glass ceiling. But even it was partially obscured by clouds. A gust of wind blew the tree limbs on the other side, sending strange shadows down into the room to dance across the carpet. The plywood boards creaked in the wind.

Steve’s body moved into the center of the room, his eyes trying to adjust to the low light. Lillian located the Victrola. The handle didn’t seem to be moving, and the music had stopped. This was her house, and she had never been afraid of it, but she felt uneasy in that moment. Some actual light would help. Steve moved toward the light switch, but his path was blocked by Dustin.

The boy brandished a medium sized mirror. It was large enough to block his face and chest. The copy of the letter Mrs. Mooregrove had written to her sister concerning Henry Miller was taped to the back, along with a flashlight. Dustin started to read the letter, his voice loud and strong. Steve stumbled back, but Lucas was right behind him. He had a mirror and a letter Mrs. Mooregrove had written about the house and how her husband had adapted it for Lillian’s needs. Steve turned and Mike was there to his left. His letter was the earliest they’d found, and it was all about how Mrs. Mooregrove was terrified her three-year-old daughter was going to die, and how she couldn’t live without her baby girl. Steve tried to escape the other way, but Max blocked his only out. She had their “holy grail,” the letter Mrs. Mooregrove had written after Lillian had died.

They didn’t give Lillian or Steve a chance to react. The four of them kept reading their letters, shouting as loudly as they could. They traveled in a circle around Steve, their mirrors held high. The moving glass caught the moonlight from above and forced Lillian to look at herself. She didn’t understand what was happening. How had they gotten in? What were they doing? She recognized her name in bits and pieces. She heard her mother’s name, her father’s name, her aunt’s name. Suddenly it was like her life was flashing through her mind. The images were moving so quickly, and she couldn’t slow them down. It made her dizzy. She looked in the mirrors and all she was her reflection, scared and frail. She didn’t see Steve at all. She was alone again, and she hated it. Why couldn’t these people just leave them be?

Lillian closed her eyes. She could still feel Steve, and if she could still feel him, he had to be there. She gritted her teeth and fought the urge to open her eyes. She covered her ears, trying to block out their words, even though a part of her wanted to hear what they were saying. They were talking about her, her life, but she couldn’t go back to those days. She would not be that frail girl anymore. She refused to be alone, so she hung on to Steve with all her might.

Steve felt like he was being torn apart. It was like being drawn and quartered without the horses. His knees buckled and he hit the ground. Dustin glanced up over his mirror, and he wished he hadn’t. He couldn’t see too good, but he could tell Steve was hurting. Dustin willed his mouth to keep reciting and his feet to keep moving in a circle. It was the terrible two minutes, and if he kept on course, this would pass, and Steve would be okay again.

Lillian screamed and her cry mixed with Steve’s. He clutched his stomach and doubled over, his forehead resting on the carpet. He started to retch, and Dustin shouted louder because he did not want to hear that. The lights in the rest of the house began to flicker off and on, which meant they were getting somewhere. They started to chant faster, and Steve screamed again, this ear-splitting wail. The power surged and dimmed. Then Steve went quiet, and Dustin chanced another look around his mirror. Steve’s face was turned to the side, and in that moment the moonlight was perfect. Dustin could see every line of pain. For a split second, they made eye contact and Dustin could swear Steve’s lips whispered, “Stop.” And Dustin faltered. His words died in this throat, and Max bumped into him as his feet caught on the carpet.

Steve pounded his fist on the floor, and it was like a sonic boom erupted in the room. There was no sound, but this wave of energy knocked all of them over. The lights in the rest of the house went out, and it took them several minutes to come back on. Outside in the car, Nancy clutched the steering wheel. She was about to hyperventilate. “The lights came back on.” She looked at Robin. “Did they do it?”

The other girl looked at her watch. “They still have two minutes.”

Nancy groaned and rested her head on the window. The sound of rain falling caught her attention. The moon was completely gone now, blocked by a heavy bank of rain clouds. “Is that an omen?” Robin whispered.

“It’s a comment on our incredibly shitty luck.”

Inside Mooregrove Manor, the rain pounded down on the glass ceiling. It’s steady drumming was the only noise at that moment. Dustin sat up slowly and pushed his mirror aside. Somehow, it wasn’t broken. That was good, considering he had to rehang it in his bathroom. Mike crawled to the couch and pulled himself up. He turned on the lamp beside the couch and took stock. The four of them were sitting up, and they seemed to be unharmed. Lucas moved over to Max to check on her. “I’m fine,” she assured him.

Dustin quickly turned his attention to Steve. His friend was motionless, face down on the floor. They had all been blown back from him, and Dustin swiftly crawled forward. “Please don’t be dead,” he whispered. He reached for Steve’s neck with a shaky hand, and he breathed an audible sigh of relief when he felt a pulse.

“Where’s Lillian?” Lucas asked.

“Shouldn’t she have manifested?” Max was concerned.

“Is she in anyone else?” Mike felt his body like he wasn’t sure he was himself.

Dustin tried to count heartbeats. He wished he knew what a normal heart rate was, and it didn’t help that his friends were all talking over each other. Dustin felt like Steve’s pulse was okay, but his skin was still cold. It seemed to be getting colder the longer he left his fingers on Steve’s skin.

“Where is Lillian?” Lucas asked again.

Dustin was just about to shush them, when the door to the Rose Room slid closed. “Shit!” Mike exclaimed.

Steve started to stir. For a second, Dustin was overjoyed. Steve was even laughing, and he guessed that was a good thing. But then he listened a little closer and that didn’t sound like Steve’s laugh.

“Dustin, move away,” Max instructed.

Dustin drew his hand away and stumbled back. Lucas ran to the second door at the other end of the room, but it was shut tight. “We’re trapped!”

Steve’s body slowly got back to its feet. Lillian looked down at the mirror by her feet, her reflection wasn’t alone anymore. They were back together, and they were going to stay that way. She turned slowly, taking in the four trespassers. “I always wondered what it would be like to have siblings. Now I’m glad I died before I had the chance.”

“Steve,” Dustin began, but that wasn’t right. “Lillian, we have proof, letters from your parents. They loved you. Henry loved you.”

“No!” she screamed at them and everything in the room seemed to shake.

Mike gave Lucas a panic-stricken look. “Where’s the walkie talkie?!” he whispered. Lucas looked around. It had rolled off somewhere when they’d been knocked over.

“You break into my house, MY HOUSE!” The room shook again. “You’re so smart, so clever. I can be clever, too.”

“Lillian, we want to talk to you,” Dustin begged.

She refused to hear him. “Did you know Mooregrove Manor has twenty different patterns of china? Some of them are functional, but most were just for show.” Steve inclined his head and a commemorative plat flew off the self behind him. It sped past the four of them and shattered on the far wall. “There’s one.” He inclined his head and another plate shot at them. This one was much closer, and they had to move or get hit. “There’s another.”

Steve’s body took a step forward and rose its hands. The full bookshelf on the front wall began to rattle. “The house has over 5,000 books,” Lillian continued. “There’s a bookshelf in almost every room.” A mass of books slid off and hovered in the air.

“Ah, hell,” Mike moaned.

“Duck!” Max screamed.

“Steve you can fight this!” Dustin called right before he hit the ground.

The books sped through the air and collided with the furniture and the walls. A steady trickle of blood started to run from Steve’s nose. “There are sixteen different couches.” The couch Max was hiding behind started to move, and she scrambled out of the way before it could pin her against the wall. “A desk that was once used by President McKinley.” Mike didn’t move fast enough, and he was trapped between the desk and the wall. Max and Lucas grabbed his arms and helped him clamber over.

“Lillian, stop!” Dustin shouted.

“Not to mention father’s impressive collection of swords,” she remarked. Dustin’s plea caught in his throat. They all looked up as the crossed swords pulled themselves out of the wall and turned towards them.

“Why is everything in this room a weapon?!” Lucas shrieked. The three of them ran for the far door and slammed into with all their might. It still wouldn’t budge.

“Dustin, help us!” Max cried. The boy staggered to his feet and joined them. They pushed and pushed, but the door held tight.

The swords shot through the air. They ducked as one stuck in the wall right behind them. The other flew past their backs and they jerked forward. The very tip of it grazed Lucas’s shoulder and he yelped. His cry of pain woke Steve up. “Lucas,” Steve whispered, his voice strangled and despondent. For a brief second, Dustin saw a glimmer of his friend. The door released in that moment, and they stumbled out into the hall.

“Run, run!” Mike pushed them towards the employee exit.

Lillian tore out of the Rose Room after them, and Dustin looked back long enough to discern Steve was gone again. Steve’s body reached its arm out towards them and suddenly they couldn’t move. Their feet were frozen to the floor, and Dustin was sure this was what it felt like to be caught in a tractor beam. With a primal scream of rage, Lillian used all her and Steve’s strength to push them forward and into the employee pantry. She slammed the door on them, effectively blocking out their shouts and calls.

With another scream, she pulled a set of shelves out of the kitchen and shoved it against the employee door. She then stormed back into the front of the house. Her rage was blinding, and she channeled it as she sent an armoire and a grand piano sliding across the floor and crashing into the front door.

Nancy and Robin had given up on the car and were on the front porch when the furniture slammed into the door. “What was that?” Robin asked. Nancy desperately tried to reach Dustin again on the walkie talkie. He’d had his twenty minutes and then some. His time was up.

“Dustin, come in! Anyone come in!”

Robin pushed on the front door. “It’s blocked.”

In the pantry, Dustin fiddled with the controls on the employee’s radio system. Max located a first aid kit and turned her attention to Lucas’s arm. Mike tried the door, but of course it didn’t budge. He jerked back when he heard Lillian slamming around furniture on the other side.

“Jesus Christ, she’s tearing the house down.”

Max opened a band aid and placed it over Lucas’s cut. “Are you okay?”

“It doesn’t hurt, and chicks dig scars.” She rolled her eyes, but she took his hand in hers.

“Steve’s crazy girlfriend is going to kill us,” Mike remarked.

“He’s still in there. I saw him when Lucas got hurt, he reacted. That’s how the door opened. That’s how we got out. He doesn’t want to hurt us.”

“Yeah, but she does,” Mike protested.

“She’s confused and scared,” Max spoke up.

“We were almost shish kabobbed.” Lucas pointed at his arm.

“Dustin, come in!” Nancy’s voice was staticky, but Dustin yelped for joy to hear it.

“Nancy, abort the plan! We need help!”

“Dustin, I can barely hear you.” On the porch, Nancy held the walkie talkie as close to her ear as she could. She placed one hand over her other ear, trying to block out the sound of the rain. “How’s Steve?”

“Abort the plan!” Dustin tried to enunciate as clearly as he could.

Back in the Rose Room, Lillian began to collect the papers the kids had dropped. What was all this stuff? Her eyes spotted something strange under an overturned chair, and Steve knelt to pick it up. It was a walkie talkie. Steve turned up the volume, and they could hear Dustin and Nancy loud and clear.

Lillian dashed the walkie talkie on the floor and dropped the papers. She stormed back to the employee pantry and blew the door open with a flick of Steve’s hands.

“Get help!” Dustin screeched as the door exploded. “Save Steve!”

Steve’s hand shot out and the employee radio system crumpled in on itself. Dustin fell off the stool as sparks flew out. The kids screamed and ducked.

“Dustin?! Dustin?!” Nancy dropped the walkie talkie and looked at Robin.

“What?”

“Back door!” She tore off the porch and Robin followed, their feet slipping in the mud that was starting to form as the rain continued to pour.

Steve reached both arms out and the four of them were pulled forward, all clinging to one another. They bumped into the wall as they were pushed down the hall and into the kitchen. Lillian stacked them against the counter. Dustin tried so hard to move, but it was like his feet were magnetized and the floor had him locked in place.

“Steve and I are going to be together, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it!” Lillian shouted. She pushed all her anger forward and the wall at the back of the kitchen began to splinter and crack. Board by board was pulled away and came crashing to the floor. There was another door behind that wall, but it didn’t look like an ordinary door. With another scream, Lillian pulled at the large metallic door until it opened to reveal the old elevator.

Blood was pouring out of Steve’s nose, and it started to trickle out of his ears. “Lillian, you’re going to kill him!” Dustin cried out.

“El, we need help. El, we need help,” Mike whispered and thought as hard as he could.

Lillian ignored Dustin’s pleas. Steve turned his hands back to the group and they shot across the floor, one by one, into the elevator. “No! No! No!” Dustin screamed. He tired to get to his feet before the door slammed, but it was too late. With one last cry, Steve pushed the elevator. It sprang to life and shot back, plastering them all to the floor of the contraption.

Nancy fought against the back door, but it was stuck, too. “Dustin! Mike!”

“Was that them? Were they screaming?” Robin didn’t know what to do. “We call the police now, right?”

“And say what?! They’ll arrest Steve and he’ll still be possessed. We have to find another way inside.” Nancy left the door and looked around. Her answer came in the form of a cellar access. She ran to it, and Robin followed. It was bound tight with a chain and a padlock. “I have bolt cutters in my car!”

“Of course, you do!” The two of them ran down the hill, slip sliding all the way back to the car.

“We’re going to die in here!” Lucas shouted in the elevator.

The metal box banged around inside the house for a moment longer before coming to a screeching halt. None of them said anything for a moment.

“What do we do?” Max asked.

“El, we need help,” Mike whispered again.

In the It’ll Do Hotel, Will was looking out the window as the storm rolled in. It was only them in the hotel, and their mother had stepped out. That really meant she wanted to smoke, but she didn’t want them to know she’d started smoking again.

Jonathan was trying to find something on the television. He kept looking at the phone in the room and then at the time on the clock. “They don’t even know where we are to call us! This is insane!” He grunted in disgust and tossed the remote on the bed.

El was on the other bed. She looked like she was resting, but her body was so tense. She concentrated on an apple above her, turning it over and over in the air.

  
Will sighed. He watched as a cop car pulled into the parking lot. It made him think of Chief Hopper, and he felt sad. He thought about narrating for the others, but he didn’t want to upset El. The cop stepped out of his car and waited, lighting up a cigarette and leaning against his trunk. A few minutes later, a very flashy Cadillac pulled up.

“Who’s that?” Will wondered.

“Who’s what?” Jonathan asked, but he wasn’t interested.

Will watched as two very scantily clad ladies stepped out of the car. The cop put his arm around the ladies and let them escort him to the car. He crawled into the back of the Cadillac with them, and the flashy car took off. “I think that cop just rode off with some prostitutes.”

“What?”

Will looked back at his brother. "That cop parked his car and left with those prostitutes.”

“Come away from the window, Will.”

Suddenly, El gasped and sat up. The apple fell to the bed and rolled off. “Mike!” she shouted. “Mike!” El was on her feet, and she was running for the door. Jonathan caught her.

“We have to help them!”

“Slow down. What’s going on?!”

El pushed against him, trying to get past. “They’re trapped, someplace dark. We have to help them!”

“Who trapped them?”

“Lillian,” El whispered.

Will’s eyes got large. “We have to go, Jonathan!”

“With what car?!”

El got past Jonathan and tore out of the room. She looked around the parking lot, trying to decide what to do.

“We borrow a car!” Will suggested.

“From who?! We don’t even know where mom is right now!”

The two bothers continued to bicker. El walked to the cop car and placed her hands on the hood. She concentrated hard and suddenly the engine turned over and the car came alive, flashing lights and all.

“Holy, shit!” Jonathan exclaimed.

“That’s new,” Will spoke in wonder.

“We have to go!” El insisted, wiping at her nose.

“I’m not stealing a cop car!” Jonathan protested.

“He’s a bad cop, he went off with prostitutes,” Will implored.

“You drive or I drive!” El started to get in the driver’s seat, but Jonathan stopped her.

“I’ll drive! But we have to find mom!”

“What’s going on?” Joyce Byers came around the corner. “Are you stealing a police car?!”

“We have to go!” El screamed.

“What is going on?” Joyce asked again. Jonathan and Will started to talk at once. She shushed them and turned her attention to El. She approached the girl and rested her hand on her cheek. “El, what’s wrong?”

“Bad things. They’re in danger, all of them. We have to help.”

“Mike and Dustin, they’re in danger?”

El nodded. “And Steve is dying.”

“Steve’s possessed, and they were going to exorcise him,” Jonathan spoke.

Joyce nodded. “Get in the car!” El did as told, but the boys remained in place. “Get in the car!” Joyce barked again. They clambered into the car. Joyce was only mildly surprised to find there were no keys in the ignition. She threw the car into reverse, backed out of the parking lot, and floored it. “We have forty miles, so spill!” she called as the siren pierced the night air.

Lillian retreated to the Rose Room after sequestering the kids in the elevator. She slammed the door to the room shut. Steve was no longer standing on his own volition. His body was exhausted, and Lillian could feel it. It made her feel like she had rheumatic fever all over again. Lillian stepped aside and released Steve. The weight of what she’d done was crashing down on her, and she moved away from him, suddenly unable to face him. “What are you doing? What are you doing?” she whispered to herself as she faced the other wall.

Steve’s knees buckled in and he crumpled to the floor. “Lillian, you have to let the kids go. Do whatever to me, but let the kids go.”

Steve lay on the carpet, unable to do anything else. He wasn’t in pain. He was numb. He was aware of the blood on his shirt, on his face, down his neck. It should freak him out, but he couldn’t muster too much concern for it. He was so tired. It was almost like he was floating, looking down at himself. This must be what dying felt like, he decided. He’d been injured before. He’d been sick, but he’d never felt this level of detachment from himself. Everything hurt so much, that it didn’t hurt at all.

“I can’t keep this up,” he spoke after a moment, once he had the strength to form words again. “You’re killing me, Lillian.”

She finally turned back to him, coming to his side. She knelt by him and placed her hand gently on his chest. Her eyes were shining with tears. “Would that be so bad? We could be together forever, just you and me. Your friends could still come and visit, and you’d never get old.”

Steve laughed at first, because it was so ridiculous, but then he started to cry. And he’d never cried like this before. This wasn’t crying over a broken bone or a broken heart, this was crying for his life. Lillian sobbed in return and rested her head on his chest. “I don’t want to be alone anymore,” she pleaded. “Please, Steve, please.”

“You’re not a murderer, Lillian,” he managed to reply.

She pulled away from him again, her face twisted and confused. “I don’t know who I am anymore.” She moved away from him, retreating to another corner. The room was so very cold, but Steve didn’t have the energy to shiver. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”

Inside the elevator, Dustin and his friends weren’t sure what to do. “Are we going to suffocate in here?” Lucas asked.

Max pointed up at a vent in the ceiling. “I think we’re fine.” She crawled over to Dustin and touched his shoulder gently. He was all curled in on himself and she was worried about him. He flinched at her touch. “Dustin, we need to figure out a plan.

He shook his head, refusing to look at her. “I can’t. I screw everything up.” He buried his face in his knees. “I screw everything up.”

Max looked at the other boys, but they had no idea how to help.

Outside, Nancy and Robin managed to break the lock on the cellar door. They removed the chain and struggled to open the heavy doors. Flashlights in hand, they descended creaky stairs into the underbelly of Mooregrove Manor. “Of course, we’re in a creepy basement,” Robin commented. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Nancy shone her flashlight around the space, searching for another door. She spotted a set of stairs at the far end, a set of stairs that led up. “Come on, we’re going to save the kids, and we’re going to save Steve.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They stepped down and moved with confidence through the space. Ten steps into the room, the floor gave out from under them, and they crashed through to the floor beneath them. Robin had enough time to register that there was another floor before she passed out. Nancy took in the coal shoot they’d slid down and then so many bottles of wine before she, too, passed out.

Mooregrove Manor had been turned upside down, but now the house was unbelievably still. The only noise was the constant hum of the rain on the roof. The eight people trapped inside the house were shockingly silent.


	26. We Save Each Other

Chapter Twenty-Five

November 23-24, 1985

We Save Each Other

“I can’t believe you all!” Joyce expressed for the umpteenth time as the police car tore down the road. Fortunately, the rain seemed to be discouraging too many, other drivers from venturing out. “I – I have no words.”

Jonathan swallowed his comment, because she did have words, and she had been sharing them for the last ten minutes.

“Next time, you tell me!” she enforced. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” Jonathan replied. “I think we’re writing down a constitution, so this kind of thing doesn’t happen again.”

“Whose we?”

“Us, Nancy, Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, everybody.”

“And?” Joyce gestured to herself.

“And you,” Jonathan added.

“Damn straight. I’m John Hancock, and don’t you forget it.”

“Nice reference, Mom,” Will spoke up from the back, trying desperately to win some brownie points. He had his hands clamped over El’s ears. She had her own hands clamped over her eyes, trying her best to get a better feel for where Mike and the others were exactly.

Joyce clutched the steering wheel a little tighter and let out an exasperated sigh. “We move out of the town and this shit still follows us home. I knew, I knew you guys were acting weird.”

“Sorry,” Jonathan apologized, again.

“And I knew,” Joyce continued, “I knew I saw a girl in the window when we went to Mooregrove Manor. Fourth grade trip, she was standing right there, staring out the third-floor window. I pointed up and Billy Thatcher called me crazy. Who’s crazy now?”

El groaned and removed her hands. Will felt her movement and moved his hands, too. “Did you find them?”

She shook her head, not completely sure. “Big house. They’re somewhere dark, like inside the wall.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Will commented.

Jonathan looked back at El. “Did you see Nancy?”

“She’s somewhere dark, too.”

Jonathan’s heart clenched in his chest. He looked at his mother. “We have to go faster.”

“If I go any faster, we’re going to hydroplane. This rain is not letting up.”

“What is hydroplane?” El asked.

“When there’s so much water on the road, the wheels can’t make contact with the asphalt,” Jonathan explained.

El chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. She leaned forward, draping over the front seat. “El, honey, put your seatbelt on,” Joyce instructed. “If this car skids, I don’t want you rolling around.”

El stretched her hand out towards the front windshield. She focused on the falling rain and thought as hard as she could. Suddenly, it was like the rain was being deflected away from the car. They were driving through a tunnel of rain, but the road ahead of them was clear.

“Whoa,” Will remarked.

“El, don’t wear yourself out,” Jonathan cautioned.

El gritted her teeth and maintained her focus. “Drive,” she told Joyce.

Joyce didn’t need to be told twice. She pushed the gas pedal down as far as it would go.

Steve Harrington had made a decision. If he was truly going to die in Mooregrove Manor, he wasn’t going out like this. His story would be cooler. It would say more than he lay there on the carpet until he expired. He had to do something, whether it worked or not. He had to move.

Mustering what little strength he could, Steve propped himself up on his elbow. He looked around the room, trying to decide what to do next. Lillian was still removed from him, and she hadn’t spoken to him in some time. He pushed himself up a little more and swallowed back the wave of nausea that hit him as he sat up. Once his vision stopped spinning, his eyes were drawn to the instruments the kids had used in their attempted exorcism. Slowly, he inched forward and detached the letter from the back of the mirror Dustin had been holding.

“Are you reading the lies your friends brought?” Lillian asked after a moment.

Her voice startled him a little. “This is a letter from your mother,” Steve replied.

Lillian scoffed and moved to his side. She looked at the letter in question. “That isn’t my mother’s handwriting.”

“I think they copied them from the originals.”

“Or made them up,” Lillian countered.

Steve kept his anger in check, but he found it encouraging that he had the energy to be mad. “They wouldn’t do that. They’re well versed in the library, trust me.” He chuckled for a second, suddenly overwhelmed by the irony that he wouldn’t be in this mess if he had had a library card in the first place. Lillian’s portrait was right smack next to the circulation desk.

Steve turned his attention back to the letter. “Did you have an Aunt Minerva?” He looked at Lillian, and that was familiar to her.

“Yes, my mother’s sister. They exchanged letters all my life.” She was more interested now.

Steve took a breath and trusted his gut. Either she was going to listen to him, or she was going to freak out, but he had to try. “My dearest sister, Henry is finally home from the war. He was discharged from the hospital in New York, but he is no better. The doctors thought he might improve at home, but that is not the case,” he started to read.

Inside the elevator, Mike Wheeler was over a lot of things, but the first thing on that list was the damn elevator they were currently trapped in. He had been eyeing the chair in the middle of the room. “I’m over this haunted house bullshit.” He stood and walked over to the worn seat. It had once been bolted to the floor, but two of those bolts had broken loose, and the seat moved if he pushed on it. Mike leaned over and looked under the arms. “These are regular screws,” he observed. “Lucas, do you have your pocketknife?”

Lucas dug around in his pockets. “Uh, yeah.”

Mike looked at Dustin. His friend was still curled in on himself. The time for feeling sorry for themselves was over, though. “Dustin, what do you have in your fanny pack?”

Dustin didn’t reply. Max dug in her own pockets and pulled out a switchblade. “It was Billy’s. It might help.”

“If we can get this chair apart, I think we can wedge a piece and open that door,” Mike explained.

“But we don’t know what floor we’re on,” Lucas pointed out.

“And we won’t until we get the door open.” Max stood and walked over to the chair. She started to rock it. Lucas joined her and they began to push it together.

Mike walked over to Dustin and leaned down. “Seriously, man, your fanny pack is like a utility belt. We need your help.”

Dustin finally looked up at his friend. “Steve needs your help,” Mike added.

That did it. Dustin wiped at his cheeks and snorted back the snot bubble he’d been working on. He unzipped his fanny pack and started to pull out various odds and ends. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Inside the Rose Room, the temperature had dropped another ten degrees at least. Steve’s fingers were numb from the cold, and he gladly tucked them under his armpits when Lillian took the letter from him. She stared at it for a moment. She had asked Steve to read it a second time, but her brain was still struggling to process the words. It had all happened so long ago, but as she thought back on it, it was the only answer that made sense. Henry hadn’t forgotten about her. He was sick, too.

Lillian let out a wail and crumpled the paper in her hands. “Why didn’t they tell me the truth?” she sobbed. “They told me circumstances had changed. I thought his affections had changed, that he didn’t love me anymore.”

“I think they were trying to spare you,” Steve replied. “Your mom says you were sick.”

Lillian would have tried to go and take care of Henry; she knew that much was true. Still, she deeply resented being lied to. “Poor Henry,” she sobbed again. “He probably died all alone in that place.” She clutched the letter to her chest. “We were supposed to be together.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve fought back the urge to reach out and comfort her. Instead, he crawled forward slowly and began to collect the other papers scattered throughout the room. He came across another page that had Henry’s name on it. It was a xerox of a newspaper clipping about his death in 1970. “He didn't die alone, Lillian.”

“What?”

“Henry Sherman Miller passed away peacefully last Sunday at Richmond State Hospital. He was surrounded by the staff and nurses whom he’d come to think of as family during his time there. The Miller family is eternally grateful for the care he received as a patient.”

Lillian’s face broke with relief. “I’m glad he wasn’t alone. Do you think he remembered me?”

“How could anyone forget you?” Steve replied, his tone 100% honest.

Lillian managed a small smile, but then her expression darkened. “My parents forgot about me.” She moved away from the couch and joined Steve in collecting the wayward papers. “I want to know what else they were lying to me about.”

“Nancy, are you okay?” Nancy Wheeler blinked her eyes. Her surroundings started to come into view, and they were very dark. Suddenly there was a bright light in her eyes, and she yelped. “Sorry.” Robin redirected her flashlight. “Are you okay?”

Nancy nodded and sat up slowly. “Yeah. I’m all right.” She looked behind them at the coal shoot they’d fallen through.

“So, this house has a basement for its basement.” Robin shone her light at the shelves. She made sure Nancy was back on her feet and had located her own flashlight before she stepped away. Robin picked up a dusty bottle and examined it. “Correction, second basement is a wine cellar.” The bottle jogged her memory, and she remembered the day she’d found Steve chugging the orange juice in the grocery store. “I think this is the wine Steve drank.”

“What?”

“He said he drank some old wine, and that was why he was sick.” Robin sighed and put the bottle back.

“Maybe they should list possession as a potential side effect,” Nancy mused. She shone her light around the space. “How are we going to get out of here?”

Robin directed her light against the far wall, and there seemed to be a door. “Nancy, door!” She ran over to it, and it opened easy enough, but there was a brick wall on the other side. Robin growled and slammed the door. “Why is this house such a horror cliché?!”

“The family obviously wants to keep the wine collection hush hush.” Nancy walked back to the coal shoot and looked up.

“Why is there a coal shoot to the wine cellar?” Robin asked, beyond angry at the house and its rooms upon rooms.

“Because it was probably the basement at one point, until they put the other floor on top, and they just boarded up the old shoot.” Nancy attempted to climb back up the shoot, but it groaned and shook.

“Nancy, stop, you’re gonna get tetanus or something.”

Robin was right, the edges were sharp and rusted. It was Nancy’s turn to growl. “How do we get out of here?!”

Robin wished she had an answer. The two of them stood there for a moment, just breathing and fuming internally. Then, an odd noise caught their attention. It was a thumping sound.

“What is that?” Robin asked.

Nancy followed the sound to the back wall. There was another door there, a large metallic door that almost blended in with the packed earth around it. “Robin, there’s another door.”

The other girl hurried over to join her. “What is this? An elevator?”

“I think so.”

“I hate elevators,” Robin bemoaned.

There was that noise again. Nancy put her finger to her lips, and they both listened. The noise seemed to be coming from inside the wall.

“If there’s another ghost inside this house, I’m out,” Robin commented.

Nancy was about to respond, when she heard a familiar voice. “Hit it again!” she heard her brother’s muffled voice say.

“Mike?!” She pounded on the elevator door. “Mike, is that you?!”

Lillian had been silent for a while, and Steve wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. They’d been exchanging papers back and forth. And it was clear, at least to Steve, that Lillian’s parents had never lied to her, not directly. Their worst crime had been never telling her how much they loved her.

Lillian shook her head and reared back from the piece of paper she was looking at. “No, my parents barely spoke to me, unless there was a party and they wanted to trot me out, pretend like I was healthy, that we were this normal family.”

“Maybe your illness scared them?”

Lillian was incredulous. “Scared them? I had to live with it every day. They never asked me what that felt like. They didn’t care.”

Steve held up the adapted floor plans for Mooregrove Manor. He didn’t know how his friends had found all these sources, but of course they had. “They fixed this house for you, for your comfort. The elevator, the bookshelves in every room,” Steve pointed out. “Your personal library.”

Lillian shook her head. She scattered the papers in front of her angrily. The one left before her was a copy of the updated Mooregrove family tree. There was her grandmother’s name, which was also her name, and then, there at the bottom, was her name for a third time. “Who is this?!”

Steve returned gently to her side. He examined the document. “It looks like your brother’s granddaughter.”

“He’s not me brother,” she hissed. “My parents replaced me with those boys, and now he’s given away my name, my grandmother’s name.”

Steve leaned down to read the lightly written line beneath the newest Lillian’s branch of the tree. The pencil hadn’t copied clearly, but he was pretty sure he could make out the words. “I don’t think he gave away your grandmother’s name.” Steve pointed at the paper. “Named in honor of her great aunt,” he read. “That’s you. She’s named after you.”

Lillian couldn’t process that information. She drew her knees to her chest. “No, they were barely in the house after I died. My parents moved, and they only came back a handful of times with the boys and – and then they were gone. They left me all alone. Why?”

“They didn’t know you were still here.”

Lillian scoffed and looked away. “They barely noticed when I was alive. Why would it be any different after I was dead?”

Steve took a breath. He had been sitting on this letter since he’d found it, but now was the time to share it, at least he hoped it was. “Lillian, I think you should listen to this letter. Your mother wrote it right after you died.”

She turned her head to him. She looked so broken, so fragile, but Steve knew there was a great power lurking just under the surface. “It won’t be easy to hear,” he warned. Lillian stared at him, but then she nodded her head in consent.

He took another breath and began to read. “My dearest sister, I do not know how to begin this letter. We have suffered the greatest loss any parent can face. Our sweet Lillian is gone. There was a terrible accident. Even now, I do not know how to explain it. I will never purge the image from my mind, the image of my beloved husband holding her lifeless body in the Rose Room.

  
If you remember from my last letter, Lillian had contracted the influenza. Her fever was so high, she was not herself, and I don’t think she knew where she was that night. My husband followed her up to the roof. I think she went up there looking for Henry. I do not believe she intended to harm herself. Quincy said she had turned and was coming back, away from the edge of the roof. He had his arms out to grab her, but then the glass ceiling of the Rose Room collapsed beneath her feet. She fell, and there was nothing Quincy could do but watch.

  
The doctor says she died in an instant, that she did not suffer. It was more than her body could handle. His words are cold comfort. And he was not there, he did not see what I saw. When I heard the terrible crash, I ran into the room, but I was frozen to the spot, I could not move. Sweet Helen called for the doctor immediately. Quincy dashed into the room. He was soaking wet from the rain. He pulled her to him, caring not for the broken glass. She was already gone, though. Our Lillian was gone. I have never heard a noise like Quincy made that night. It will haunt my dreams forever. He wailed, Minerva, wailed. The doctor had to pry him away from her body when he arrived.

  
I wanted to write you sooner, but I could not put the words to paper. I also knew you were still at mother’s, and I did not want to ruin what was left of your holiday. The funeral will be this coming Sunday. We have put it off as long as we can. Nothing will bring her back. We must put her to rest. I pray that Lillian knows peace now. I pray that she is no longer suffering.

  
I do not know what we will do about the house. Quincy is already fixing the glass ceiling, but I cannot bear to go in that room again. I cannot bear to be in the house any longer. Quincy sees it as a shrine, I see it as a tomb. Perhaps we will move? Quincy has growing business interests in Missouri. Time will tell. All I know is that my heart is broken, and it will never be whole again.”

Steve dared to look at Lillian. She didn’t react for a moment, and then she started to sob. The room felt so cold, Steve half expected snow to start falling. Lillian continued to cry, and Steve felt his resolve crumble. He reached out and took her into his arms. He held her as tightly as he could, wishing more than anything he could rewrite her story’s ending.

The door to the elevator finally popped open. The carriage was caught halfway between the basement and the wine cellar. Mike leaned down and peered out at Nancy and Robin. “Are you okay?!” Nancy asked him. She counted the four of them, and they seemed to be all right.

“Are you okay?!” Mike asked her.

“We’re in a creepy wine cellar,” Robin remarked.

“We’re in a creepy elevator,” Max replied.

“What’s the room above you? Is it the basement?” Nancy asked.

The kids stood on their tiptoes and looked up. “It’s another dark room,” Lucas surmised.

“Naturally,” Robin sighed.

“If we can crawl up into the elevator here, we can all crawl out into the basement and use the stairs to get out.” Nancy formulated a plan.

“You want us to crawl through this half open elevator?” Robin was not on board.

“Do you have a better plan?”

“What if it drops, or the doors close and we get chopped in half?” Robin had seen this movie, thank you very much.

Mike leaned against the door. “We won’t let that happen.”

Lucas gave a strong jump. “Feels pretty stuck to me.”

“Thanks for that.” Max shot her boyfriend a look.

Nancy shone her light around the wine cellar, searching for something that could give them a boost. She spotted an old crate and pulled it over. “I’m coming in,” she warned the kids. She handed her flashlight up to Dustin and stood on the crate. She grabbed the bottom of the elevator and hoisted herself up as far as she could. Lucas, Max, and Dustin grabbed her arms and pulled her forward into the elevator.

“Come on, Robin.” Dustin looked out at her. “Steve could be dead by now.”

“He’s not dead, Dustin.” Robin stood on the crate and touched the elevator tentatively. “If he were dead, I’d like to think his ghost would be helping us with our current predicament.”

In the Rose Room, Steve and Lillian lay side by side, their feet faced opposite directions, but their heads were side by side. It reminded Steve of the way they had once been, only two short weeks ago. Time made no sense anymore. He felt like he’d known Lillian all his life, but it hadn’t even been a month.

“Why didn’t they tell me?” Lillian asked again. She couldn’t get past that.

Steve wished he had an answer for her. He wished he knew why his parents no longer told him they loved him. They’d said it when he was younger. “Parents don’t always know best,” he began. “We think they do because they’re our parents, and when you’re a kid, that’s like God, or a superhero.”

Lillian was silent for a moment. “My mother used to read to me, when I didn’t feel good. She’d sit up all night and read to me. And my father, he was always so excited to show me new books he’d bought for me. That was love, right?”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled, thinking of the way his mother used to make him hot chocolate every time it snowed, how they used to all go ice skating. “My mom would sit with me on the couch when I was sick. She’d sit there forever, and I know her butt had to be numb. She’d run her hands through my hair, and it was the best thing ever.” He took a breath and swallowed thickly. “My parents still love me. I just think they’ve forgotten how to show it. Maybe they think I don’t need them anymore, but I do.”

Lillian turned her head to face him. “You should tell them.”

Steve looked at her, and they were so close, their noses almost touching. He wished things were different.

“I never told my parents how it felt living inside my illness. I don’t know if they would have listened, but I wish I had said something.” Lillian looked away again, obviously thinking about something. A moment later she asked, “Do you think they’re waiting for me?”

Steve felt the weight of the question. “Oh, Lillian, I don’t know. I’m not really religious.”

“Preachers were around all the time, praying over me, holding church in this room. I read the Bible, but I resented God. I questioned if He was even real. How could He give me this sick body? And then I got stuck here, and I thought, maybe all my resentment had damned me? Am I worth redemption?” Lillian started to cry, and Steve reached out to take her hand. It still burned, but it almost felt like it had that first time they’d touched.

“You’re not damned, Lillian. That’s not how it works.”

“How does it work?”

Steve laughed a little, because he really didn’t know. He’d thought about death and what came after, sure, especially with all the dire circumstanced he’d been in. He’d thought about it a lot that evening. “I have no idea, but I don’t think it works like that.”

“Maybe they’re waiting for me, my parents, Henry?” Lillian held his hand a little tighter, and he was willing to live with the pain for that moment.

“It’s very beautiful over there,” Steve recalled.

“What?”

“Those were Thomas Edison’s last words. I remember that from a book report.”

Lillian let go of his hand, suddenly aware she might be hurting him. “How do I get there?”

“I don’t know.” He turned his head back to face her. Her eyes were so open, so earnest. “Maybe you let go?”

She closed her eyes, like she was really trying to. Her face scrunched up, and she shook her head. “I’m scared. What if there’s nothing? What if I’m still alone?”

“We can figure it out. There’s bound to be someone who knows more about this than me,” Steve offered.

Lillian shrunk in on herself a little as a new thought crossed her mind. “What if I’m not worthy of crossing over? I’ve done some terrible things.”

Steve nodded and slowly sat up. “We can undo them. We’ll get the kids out of the wall, we’ll put the house back together. We’ll figure this out.” He was wary of making her anymore promises, but he felt like this was a doable plan.

“I might need your help to get them out of the elevator. Will you be able to handle that?” Her face was full of concern.

Steve was a little concerned about that himself, but if it meant getting Dustin and the others out of the elevator, he could get through the pain. “I can handle it,” he assured her.  
  
Suddenly, there was the sound of a siren in the night. “What is that?” Lillian opened the door to the Rose Room and ran out into the hallway to the nearest, unbroken window.

“Shit,” Steve looked around the wrecked room. How was he going to explain this to the police?

He slowly pulled himself up using the couch and staggered over to the doorway. Lillian was watching as the police car came to a stop. Some people were coming up the hill and she recognized a few of them. She especially recognized the girl leading the way. “It’s her. The girl who separated us before.” Lillian looked back at Steve, and he could see the panic in her eyes.

Eleven? How was she here? Steve didn’t know how, but he knew she had come to help him, help the others.

“Lillian, she’s here to help. She’s a friend,” Steve hurried to explain.

The sound of the siren outside blocked out the noise of the struggle in the kitchen. Nancy, Robin, and the rest of the gang pushed as hard as they could against the cabinet that was blocking the basement door’s entry into the kitchen. It wasn’t anything Lillian had put there. No, this piece of furniture had been intentionally placed by the staff in order to mask the door.

“I really hate this staff!” Robin grunted as they pushed again.

The cabinet finally scooted forward and they were able to get the door open enough to slink out. They were back in the house proper.

“Huzzah!” Lucas cheered.

Outside, El was on the porch. Joyce was calling at her to wait, but she wasn’t listening. She had to get to Mike. She had to be sure they were all okay. El reached out with her hand and pulled on the door with her telekinesis, but it wouldn’t open. It was blocked.

Lillian saw the armoire and piano vibrate as El pulled on the door. “She’s a friend! She’ll help us!” Steve insisted.

The furniture shook again, a little harder this time. That didn’t seem friendly to Lillian. “No, she’s come to separate us. I’ll be alone again.”

In that moment, the furniture exploded away from the door, crashing into the wall. The door fell from its hinges. Down the hall, Dustin rounded the corner, pushing ahead of the others as he fought to get to Steve first. “Steve!” he called out, overjoyed to see his friend standing upright and still breathing.

Steve’s attention was drawn elsewhere. Lillian was running at him, and he recognized that look on her face. “Lillian! Lillian, no!” His body braced for the impact and the pain as she grabbed ahold of him and resumed control.


	27. “God in His Mercy Lend Her Grace”

Chapter Twenty-Six

November 24, 1985

“God in His Mercy Lend Her Grace”

As soon as El entered Mooregrove Manor, she had to dodge the busted armoire as it shot across the floor at her. She had already been wary, on high alert. The house felt wrong, and she was worried about Mike and her friends. Now, as the furniture flipped over the threshold and crashed onto the porch, barely missing the Byers, El was prepared for war. She turned and looked at Steve, but it wasn’t Steve. All she saw was an enemy, and she knew what to do with enemies.

“El!” Mike called out, but it didn’t break her concentration.

In that tense second of silence, Lucas looked from Steve to El. “This would be so cool,” he commented. And then it felt like the house exploded around them as anything and everything that could fly was shooting through the air. “If we weren’t in danger of being killed,” he added as they hit the floor.

Jonathan pulled his mother and brother away from the open door and any windows. In the hall, Nancy and Robin tried to keep the rest of the group contained as they crouched beside the stairs. “Lillian, stop!” Dustin shouted. He kept trying to creep ever further, but Robin grabbed his pants leg and held fast. “El, it’s still Steve! Don’t hurt him!”

“What if El gets hurt?!” Mike countered.

“Pretty sure she’s holding her own,” Max observed as a suit of armor exploded in the foyer.

“Hey, where’s your medium?” Nancy suddenly asked. She had been so focused on saving her brother and his friends, she had completely forgotten about Madame Z. “Is she in a closet or something?”

Robin had a terrible thought. “She’s not dead, is she?”

“She’s in prison. She’s safe,” Lucas assured.

“What?!” Nancy was floored, in more ways than one. “You all did this without her?!”

“Of all the dingus moves,” Robin started.

“Truthfully, it wouldn’t have gone any better with her,” Dustin argued.

“We’ll never know now!” Nancy sneered.

“We can argue this later!” Mike shouted over them.

An overstuffed bookcase from the study collided with the bannister of the stairs and broke off a good chunk of railing before crashing to the ground. Steve staggered a bit, a fresh coat of blood on his face. El seized the opportunity and sent him flying back into the adjoining room. He landed face down on the carpet runner in the study. 

“El, it’s still Steve!” Dustin pleaded. “Don’t hurt him, just contain him!”

“Trap him!” Mike added.

El moved to the entry way of the study. She quickly accessed the room. Steve wasn’t back on his feet, but he was starting to stir. His right foot was stretched out, close to one of the curtains on the back wall. El sent the curtain down to wrap around his leg. It tightened and pulled him back further into the room. 

Lillian began to panic, and Steve reached out to grab for anything on the floor to stop their slide. There was nothing at first, but then his fingers held fast to the fringe at the end of the carpet runner. With a shout, he flicked the runner with a superhuman force, and it sent El shooting back out of the room. Her bottom hit the marble floor of the foyer and she slid across it. The force of it stunned her and knocked the air out of her lungs.

Steve’s body shook the curtain off and ran to the foyer. Lillian was the angriest she’d ever been in her life or afterlife. Who was this girl to trespass in her house and wreck it? Steve’s hand shot out, and before El could react, her arm was jerked into the air and she was pulled up, her feet no longer touching the ground. 

“El!” Mike screamed.

Eleven struggled to regain control, her legs flailing in the air. Mike started to move, but Dustin was on his feet first. He ran forward and collided with El, knocking her out of Lillian’s hold. The force of that power was turned on him. It felt like a giant hand had reached around the core of his very being and was pulling him into the air. His feet left the ground, and he was aware that the force holding him could crush him if it wanted to. It didn’t hurt now, but it was firm and threatening in a way that made him feel every breath could be his last.

Lillian was staring right at him through Steve’s eyes, and she was unflinching. Dustin swallowed hard. He barely recognized the bloody and enraged face of his best friend. “Steve. Lillian,” he carefully pleaded. The force tightened just a little, and he gulped. If Lillian killed him, Steve would never forgive himself, which bothered Dustin more than his own eminent demise.

Suddenly, the mask of rage Steve had been wearing broke. His eyes softened, and his desperation was clear. “Dustin,” he sobbed. Then the anger came back, but it wasn’t directed at his friend, it was directed at the entity controlling his body. “LILLIAN, STOP!” Steve screamed. Whatever internal battle he was waging, he got the upper hand in that moment. Steve jerked his hand down and Dustin was released. His action sent a shock-wave trough the entire house. There was a terrible breaking sound as the wall behind the stairs cracked. The jagged line extended from the base all the way up to the third floor, a long, angry wound. The force of the shock-wave knocked them all down and set their ears to ringing. Steve was the only one left standing, but he was far from steady on his feet.

Dustin tried to shake his head to clear it, but everything was so fuzzy. The lights were flickering. He looked up to see Steve, and he looked like a soft breeze could blow him over. Steve stared down at him, and it wasn’t his voice that spoke to Dustin. “You all will never stop. There’s only one-way Steve and I can be together forever.” With that, Steve’s body managed to stagger off. 

“Lillian, no.” Dustin reached out, trying to grab Steve’s leg, but his vision was still a little blurry. It didn’t help that the lights were still flickering, and then they went out completely.

Fortunately, they came back on a second later, but Steve was gone. Dustin had his faculties back, and he jumped to his feet. Everyone else was pulling themselves up. Robin looked at the crack in the wall. “Holy, shit.”

Mike ran to El. “Are you all right?” She nodded.

The Byers stepped over the shattered armoire and into the house. “Oh my God,” Joyce remarked. “Are you kids okay?”

“Nancy!” Jonathan left his mother’s side and ran to his girlfriend.

Dustin was looking around, trying to figure out were Steve had gone. Where had Lillian taken him? “Dustin, where’s Steve?” Max asked.

What had Lillian said? There was only one-way Steve and her could be together forever. Dustin’s heart hit the floor. He noticed the door to the hallway closet was standing open, and he knew where the secret door in the closet lead. He’d asked Steve about it when they’d been cleaning up from his Halloween pranks. That door led to the third floor, and that was where the access to the attic was, and the access to the roof.

“The roof!” Dustin called. “Lillian’s gonna kill him!” Before anyone could stop him, Dustin was on his way up the stairs, dodging bits and pieces of debris.

Jonathan started to go after him, but Joyce stopped him. “I’m the adult!” she instructed. “Take care of the others!” Joyce hurried after the curly haired boy.

“What do we do?” Lucas asked.

Jonathan had no idea. He’d just been handed this responsibility. “Uh.” He looked out the front door. The rain was still pouring down. “Where would she jump from?”

Max’s eyes got wide. “The glass ceiling!”

They all ran into the Rose Room and looked up. Jonathan was formulating a plan. “Okay, there’s a million bedrooms in this house. We need mattresses, blankets, cushions, pillows! Go!”

They all sprang into action, running off in different directions. El found a corner of the room. She pulled a sash from a nearby window and tied it around her eyes. “El, no,” Mike protested.

“I can slow her down,” Eleven assured.

“No,” Mike protested again.

“Mike, cover my ears,” she insisted. He sighed and covered her ears.

At the top of the house, Steve had just made it onto the roof. He stood there for a moment, letting the rain beat down on him. “It will be over before you know it,” Lillian assured him, her hand in his. “And it doesn’t hurt. I didn’t feel anything.” She started to lead him away from the opening.

Dustin collided with the ladder and started to climb up. “Steve!”

Joyce was right behind the boy. She grabbed his feet, keeping him from climbing all the way out. 

“Steve!” Dustin reached out for his friend. “Joyce, let me go!”

“Not on your life, Henderson.”

In the between space, El ran through the house. The broken walls faded away as she located Steve and Lillian. With all her might, El rushed forward and grabbed ahold of the spirit. She pulled and pulled and somehow, she managed to separate them. But then Lillian was pushing her back. El collided with a wall, and that made no sense. She looked around and she was in a long hallway. It looked like the third-floor hallway of Mooregrove Manor, but it seemed to go on forever in both directions. El swallowed hard as she realized she’d lost control of the space. 

On the roof, Steve jerked forward and staggered as Lillian was pulled away from him. He came back to his senses and tried hard not to pitch forward and slide down the roof. “Steve!” Dustin was shouting behind him. He turned to see the boy hanging out of the access point. 

“Dustin, get down!” Steve picked his way carefully back to the opening. “It’s not safe out here.”

Dustin was relieved to see his friend. “You can’t come out here, no matter what happens to me,” Steve pleaded. He didn’t know when Lillian would be back, but he knew it could be any second. 

“No,” Dustin protested.

“It doesn’t matter what happens to me,” Steve argued. 

Anger flashed across Dustin’s face. “Bull shit, it doesn’t! It matters, Steve!”

“Steve, get off the damn roof!” Joyce called up the ladder.

Steve capitulated. He didn’t want to be near them when Lillian took control again, but he also didn’t want the kid coming out on the roof after him. “Dustin, move down, I’m coming.”

In the between space, Lillian pushed El against the wall harder. The long hallway was dark, and all the doors were banging open and closed. “You can stay here. See how you like it,” Lillian hissed. She shoved El a third time and took off, disappearing through the opposite wall. El ran over and touched the wall, but it felt solid under her fingers. She ran one way, and then the other, but she didn’t seem to get anywhere. The doors banged louder and louder and she screamed.

In the attic, Dustin was almost down the ladder when a cold rush of wind shot past them and up the ladder. “What was that?” Joyce asked.

Steve had been looking down at them, getting ready to follow Dustin. The cold wind hit him square in the chest, and he pulled away suddenly, moving with eerie confidence back from the ladder and towards the edge of the roof. “Lillian, no!” Dustin screeched. Before Joyce could grab him again, the boy was back up the ladder and out on the roof.

“Dustin! Damnit!” Joyce looked around the attic. For a moment, the universe threw them a bone, and she spotted a length of rope sticking out of a box. Joyce rushed forward. She quickly tied one end of the rope around her waist and the other to the ladder. Then she was up on the roof, picking her way down the shingles to Dustin who was following Steve. 

Below in the Rose Room, the group was tossing mattresses, blankets, and cushions left and right. A small pile was starting to form under the glass ceiling, but it wasn’t enough. Jonathan looked up through the rain, and he could see Steve walk out onto the roof. “Shit!” This was really happening. 

“Oh my God, she’s gonna do it!” Nancy gasped as she added another blanket to the pile.

Another set of feet stood on the very edge of the roof, and Jonathan knew whose shoes those were. This was only getting worse. They needed more padding, pronto. “Double time! Double time!” he called to the group.

Mike had felt El’s body go tense when Lillian trapped her in the subspace hallway. He instantly knew something was wrong. “El? El?!” Mike removed his hands from her ears and shook her. She didn’t respond, and her body was still so stiff. “EL?!” He ripped the sash from her eyes. He could see her eyes moving frantically behind her closed eyelids. 

Jonathan ran over and pulled Mike to his feet. “Mike, we need your help!”

“Something’s wrong with El!”

“She’s doing her part. Trust her. We need your help!” Jonathan pulled the boy away and sent him off with Lucas and Max.

“She’ll be all right,” Max assured him as they moved to help Robin and Will with a large mattress.

On the roof, Joyce had come to the end of her rope, literally. It took her right to the edge of the glass ceiling. It was long enough for her to grab Dustin by the waistline of his pants. She pulled him back as much as he would let her. “Dustin do not step forward!” she called.

At the other end of the glass ceiling, Lillian placed her hand lovingly on Steve’s cheek. She stood before him, her other hand resting on his chest, cherishing that heartbeat one last time. She hadn’t wanted it to be this way, but now it was the only answer. “It will be just me and you,” she assured him. “We can spend our days how we used to. We’ll read books, dance, sit in the window seat and watch the sunrise every morning and set every night. It will be wonderful, Steve. We’ll never be alone. No more empty houses with empty rooms. You and me, that’s all we need.”

Dustin tried to move, and Joyce tightened her grip. “I swear, I will give you the wedgie of a lifetime if you move,” Joyce insisted.

But Dustin could see Lillian, he could see her true form for the first time. There she was, holding on to Steve. She looked just like her portrait. She looked sad and scared, but he could see her feelings for Steve clear as day in her eyes. “Lillian”! Dustin shouted. “Lillian, you’re not giving him a choice, and that’s not fair! I’m sorry your life was cut short. You didn’t have a choice, but you can give him one.” Dustin felt his heart cracking open. He couldn’t stop talking, and he didn’t know if it would make a difference or not, but he had to try. If he didn’t say it now, Steve may never know. “Please, please don’t take him away. I need Steve. I need him, too. He’s my friend. He’s my brother. There are things I need him to teach me, and there’s this baseball game in the spring, and he’s supposed to go with me. And he can’t do that if he’s a ghost. Don’t take him. Please, Lillian, please,” Dustin was sobbing, his words barely understandable.

Lillian watched the younger boy. She knew he could see her, too. She was reminded of that night on the roof so many years ago. Her father had been coming after her, and she’d whirled around and . . . Lillian gasped as her father’s face came to her mind. She’d never really thought about it before, too caught up in what she’d been feeling, but she had seen his face before she’d fallen. His face had looked a lot like Dustin’s, desperate and broken. He’d been pleading for her life. All he’d wanted to do was save her. That’s all he’d wanted to do her whole life.

Lillian looked at Steve. His eyes were staring off into the distance, but she could see recognition in them. Even in this state, he was scared and there were tears falling down his cheeks. She could see that even in the rain. He didn’t want this. And she hadn’t wanted it either, when she’d been in his place. She’d been heading back. She wasn’t going to jump. The roof had simply collapsed, a terrible stroke of bad luck. 

She moved her other hand up to cup his face. The world seemed to focus in on the two of them, despite the storm raging in the night. “Steve,” Lillian slowly began. “You need to stay.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “I do. I want to stay.”

“I wanted to stay, too. I didn’t jump.”

“I know,” he replied.

“The flu probably would have killed me anyhow,” she spoke, her voice full of bitter irony.

“It’s not fair, and I’m sorry.”

Lillian nodded and rested her forehead gently against his. “I’m sorry, for everything I’ve done.”

Steve pressed his forehead back into hers. “In another life, it would have been me and you. I’m sorry it couldn’t be this one.”

“Me too.” Lillian sobbed and pulled back. She looked off at the horizon, and Steve could feel her uncertainty. “Do you really think they’re waiting for me?”

“I hope so.”

“I’m scared, Steve.” Her voice was so honest, and it reminded Steve of why he’d fallen in love with her in the first place.

He touched her cheek gently and smiled. 

“But Lancelot mused a little space;   
He said, "She has a lovely face;   
God in his mercy lend her grace,   
The Lady of Shalott." 

Lillian took his hand and kissed his palm. She let his hand go.

In the hallway in which El seemed to be trapped, the doors had stopped banging. El uncurled herself from the ball she’d been in. The space was starting to lighten, and it somehow felt warmer. It was like the sun was shining through in large, golden streams. It felt happy, and El laughed, even though she was still trapped. It felt like love, how she felt every time she read the letter Hopper had left behind for her.

Lillian smiled at Steve, and he smiled back. It was the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. He blinked his eyes, and then she was gone. Her loss was jarring, and his feet slid a little. Dustin broke out of Joyce’s hold and ran forward, onto the glass ceiling proper.

“Steve!” he screamed.

Steve turned and Dustin could see that it was one hundred percent him. The boy’s smile was large as he continued forward. Steve managed to smile in return, but then he heard a breaking noise. For a minute, he thought it was the ceiling, but no, it was the tree. The diseased tree had had all it could take in the storm. A large limb broke free and fell straight down, hitting the glass ceiling on the crack that had formed the previous week.

“Dustin!” Steve sprung into action. He moved as quickly as he could, tearing across the surface and catching the boy in his arms as the window shattered beneath them. He wrapped his arms around Dustin as tightly as he could. Somehow, he managed to flip them in the air so that he would take the force of the landing when they struck the floor. “Please, let this kid live,” he prayed to any higher power as they fell.

Then they hit the ground, but it didn’t hurt. It still knocked the wind from his lungs, and Dustin’s body pushed down on his, bruising a few ribs. But they didn’t seem to be dead. His senses came back to him, and Steve was aware of the mass of mattresses and blankets beneath them. He felt Dustin in his arms. “Are you alive?” he asked him.

“I think so. Are you?”

“Can you move your hands, your feet?” Dustin wiggled his fingers and toes.

“Yeah, can you?”

Even though everything hurt, Steve could move his fingers and toes. He was also aware of the rain falling on them from above, of all the glass around them, and of all the familiar faces peering down at them. Dustin smiled again. “We’re not dead!” He looked at his friends. “Good job, team.”

He started to move, but Steve held on to him. “Hold up, we are covered in glass. Just, stay put for a second.”

“Okay.” Dustin did as instructed. He wasn’t overly eager to remove himself from Steve’s side anyhow.

Eleven gasped and opened her eyes. “El!” Mike pulled her to him. She let herself be held for a moment.

“I have to tell Steve.” She touched Mike’s cheek gently and then moved to check on Steve and Dustin.

“El, there’s glass,” Nancy cautioned.

She pushed a small area away with her powers and dropped to her knees beside Steve. “El, are you okay?” Steve reached up to wipe the blood from under her nose. He felt awful he’d put them all through this. 

El took his hand and held it. “It was so pretty, Steve. It got all light and warm.”

“What?”

“The house. It got light, and it was beautiful. And it felt happy.”

Steve’s voice caught in his throat. “Do you think Lillian was happy?”

“Love, it was warm like love,” El assured him.

“Steve, you helped her cross over,” Robin spoke up. “You helped Lillian find peace.”

Steve couldn’t say anything, he just held on to El’s hand. His other hand tightened around Dustin.

Joyce Byers hurried down the stairs. She met Jonathan halfway down. He’d been coming to look for her. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she assured him. She ran into the Rose Room and took in the scene. “Oh my gosh, are you all okay? Is anyone hurt?!”

Steve raised his head a little. “Hey, Ms. Byers, welcome back.”

“Oh, Steve.” She knelt carefully by his side. “I don’t want you to move. I don’t want either of you to move.” She gave Dustin a pointed look before turning her attention back to Steve. “Does this house have a phone?”

“In the kitchen, yeah, if it still works.”

“Okay, I’m going to call the police, hopefully. Then I’m going to come back in here, and we’re going to figure out what our story is. Got it?”

“Do we need to involve the police?” Will asked. “We did steal a cop car.”

“For real?” Lucas looked at him.

“Steve and Dustin need a doctor, and I’m not moving them,” Joyce enforced. “Everyone understand the plan?”

They all nodded. Joyce touched Steve gently on the shoulder before standing. She walked out of the room. Steve sighed and looked around. The place was an absolute wreck. “I’m so fired.”

“It’s okay,” Dustin assured. “You needed a new job anyhow.”

Steve gave the curly haired boy a look, but there was no heat behind it. There was only fondness. “Thank you, for coming back for me.” There was more that needed to be said, but it was enough for now.

“Don’t mention it.” Dustin said it so casually, like it’d truly been nothing at all.

Steve chuckled. How did he get himself into these situations? His movement made him aware of another, pressing problem. His bladder was very full, and he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d used the bathroom. The rain wasn’t helping the matter, and he was still wearing his father’s stupid tuxedo. It was already covered in blood and everything else, but he didn’t want to add to it. “Uh, I need to get up.”

“You can’t. You heard Mom,” Jonathan told him.

“If I don’t get up, there’s gonna be a flood,” Steve’s tone was firm.

“Ew,” Dustin voiced in recognition. 

Steve squirmed until he was out from under Dustin. He could hear glass crunching under his back, but none of it stuck him. “Come on, Byers, help me up. I can go to the bathroom.”

“Hold on.” Jonathan picked his way carefully through the debris. He planted his feet firmly and reached out a hand. Steve took it and Jonathan helped him stand.

“There, we’re good. I told you.” Steve smiled slightly. He started to take a step forward, and then the world went black around him. He fell forward and Jonathan managed to catch him before he landed face first in a pile of glass.


	28. Room 208

Chapter Twenty-Seven

November 27, 1985

Room 208

Steve’s eyes opened slowly. He wasn’t exactly sure where he was, but he felt safe. He blinked a few times, and the sterile white of Hawkins Memorial Hospital came into view. He was in the hospital. That made sense. The last thing he remembered was lying in a pile of glass in Mooregrove Manor after falling through the ceiling. The hospital was probably where he needed to be.

At that moment, nothing hurt, though. He could feel his limbs enough to know they were still attached, but they felt fuzzy. His whole body felt fuzzy, but it wasn’t the scary numbness he’d felt in Mooregrove Manor. This was more like floating down a peaceful river. He felt light. The bed was comfortable beneath him, even though it was a hospital bed, and the blankets were so warm. Steve hadn’t been this comfortable in a long time. He looked down at his hands and observed the IVs sticking out of them. He chuckled a little. Whatever drugs they were giving him, they could keep it coming. 

The light in the room was dim. Steve didn’t know what day or time it was, and he didn’t care. He was aware of a presence to his right and left. Ever so slowly, Steve turned his head to the right. Dustin was passed out, curled up in a chair beside him. The boy’s left hand was resting protectively on Steve’s forearm. His ballcap was pulled down low over his eyes, and a steady stream of drool was running down the chair as he snored. Steve mustered a lopsided smile. His eyes continued to scan the room. It seemed to be larger than your average hospital room, like the kind you reserve for celebrities or politicians. 

His friends had managed to fill the space, though. They were all there, Nancy, Jonathan, Will, Joyce, Mike, El, Max, Lucas, and Robin. They were curled up on chairs and couches that had been pulled into the room. The sounds of slumber were heavy. He decided it had to be early morning, just before sunrise. Even though he was in the hospital, Steve was happy. They were all alive. They were all together, and they were here for him. His brain couldn’t process all that now, but he felt content.

The deluxe size of the room and the fact that his friends had clearly violated every visitation policy, could only mean one thing. His parents and their money were involved somehow. He’d worry about that later. For now, he was still very tired and ready to drift back to sleep. Steve finished surveying the room and turned his head to the left. His eyes were so heavy. There was another person to his left, asleep in another chair. Before his eyes closed once more, Steve recognized his mother.

Several hours later, Steve’s eyes opened again. The room was much brighter now. He could also feel his body this time around, and it hurt. The floating was over with. Here was the crash landing. Steve coughed. His throat felt dry and raw. “Hey, you’re awake,” a familiar voice spoke from his right. Steve turned to see Joyce Byers. She gave him a reassuring smile. He continued to cough, unable to catch his breath. “Oh, hold on. Easy now.” She picked up a cup of water with a straw and held it up for him. Steve took the straw in his mouth and took several gulps. “Not too fast,” Joyce cautioned. She’d done this before.

As he drank, Steve’s eyes surveyed the room. Joyce was the only one with him. The rest of the furniture was empty. “They went to eat,” she replied, reading his mind. Steve finished drinking and leaned back against the bed. He was suddenly aware of the nasal cannula in his nose, and it was super annoying. He was also aware of the multitude of IVs sticking out of him, one in each hand, and they hurt.

Joyce set the cup down. “I’ll get the doctor, let him know you’re awake.” She made to get up and leave, but Steve caught her hand. His grasp was weak, but insistent. Joyce nodded and sat back down. “It’s okay. We can call them from this button, too.” She pushed a button on the side of his bed and smiled.

Steve kept his hand on hers. He didn’t know where this sudden sense of panic had come from, but he didn’t want to be alone. “What day is it?” he managed to ask.

“Wednesday.”

Steve’s eyes got wide. Hadn’t it just been Saturday? At least, he thought it had.

“You were in a medically induced coma for a few days, so the doctors could get some things sorted out,” Joyce explained.

“Mom?” he asked next, because he remembered his mother being there earlier, but maybe that was a dream. 

“Your father took her home to get a shower, but they’re here,” Joyce assured. Steve wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about that, but he was glad they were back home. He could only imagine what they’d have to say about the state of their house. It hadn’t been as wrecked as Mooregrove Manor, but Steve was pretty sure it didn’t look good.

“We didn’t know how to get in touch with them at first, so I said I was your mom when they admitted you.” Joyce held on to his hand a little tighter, being ever careful of the IV.  
“Thank you,” Steve whispered, his voice soft and earnest.

“It’s okay. I have lots of children.”

Those children were suddenly all coming down the hall, back from the cafeteria. They were loud and unmistakable. “So do I,” Steve remarked.

As soon as Dustin saw he was awake, he pushed the others out of the way and ran into the room. Joyce had to keep him from flinging himself onto the patient. “Steve! You’re awake! Do you know your name?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know my name?”

“Yes, Dustin.”

“What year is it?”

“1985.”

“What’s the first law of thermodynamics?”

“I don’t know that.” The boy’s rapid-fire questions were overwhelming. Steve’s head was starting to spin.

“Give him some space, Dustin.” Joyce encouraged the boy to take a step back. 

“You gave us a hell of a scare, dingus,” Robin chastised him. She gripped Steve’s shoulder lightly.

“Yeah, mom yelled at me for two days straight after I helped you up,” Jonathan added.

Bits and pieces of that night were starting to come back to Steve. “Sorry, Ms. Byers. I did ask him to.” He gave her a pitiful look and Joyce nodded.

“It’s all right. You’re fine now. That’s all that matters.”

“What did you tell the police?” he asked slowly. Steve couldn’t recall exactly what had transpired, but he knew Mooregrove Manor was trashed.

“I saw a stray kitten on the roof and went up to save it,” Dustin began to explain. “You came up to save me, and we fell through the roof.”

“And the rest of the house got destroyed by . . .?” There was a giant hole in their story.

“It was a big kitten,” Mike quipped.

“No, the storm,” Dustin corrected. 

Steve stared at him. Even in his current state, he knew that was a terrible alibi. “That is the worse alibi ever,” he commented.

“You come up with one, then.” Lucas gave him an accusatory glare. 

“Why are you all not in jail?” Steve looked at Joyce.

She shrugged. “Pete Mooregrove got involved and he took care of it.”

Now Steve was really confused. “Took care of it how?”

“I don’t know,” she replied truthfully.

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do we,” Nancy added.

“This jungle of an arrangement is from the Mooregrove family.” Robin gestured to a massive bouquet of flowers that took up a side table.

“Why would they send me flowers?”

“They don’t want you to sue?” Will theorized. 

Steve groaned and leaned his head back. All this uncertainty was making him feel worse. 

“I’m gonna get that doctor.” Dustin put on his determined face and headed for the door. Fortunately, the doctor was on his way in.

The doctor brushed past Dustin and went to Steve’s side. “Mr. Harrington, how nice to see you’re awake.” He looked around the room. “And nice to see all of your friends are still here.” This had clearly been a point of contention between them. The doctor took a pin light out and shown it in Steve’s eyes. It was so bright. “Your pupils are nice and reactive. Can you tell me what your name is?”

“Steve Harrington.”

“Do you know what year it is?”

“I already asked him that,” Dustin mentioned, and Jonathan smacked his arm.

The doctor regarded the curly haired boy with something less than fondness. He turned his attention back to the patient. “Follow my finger with your eyes, Mr. Harrington.” He moved his finger in front of Steve’s face. “Do you know what year it is?”

“1985.”

“Do you know what month it is?”

“November.” Steve blinked as the doctor removed his finger. “I think it’s the day before Thanksgiving?”

“Correct.” The doctor took out a tongue depressor and asked him to open as he looked down his throat. A minute later, he stepped back, obviously pleased. “All things considered; you look good. We’ll run your blood work again, and we’ll go from there.”

“Can I take this thing out of my nose?” Steve was already tired of fiddling with the nasal cannula.

The doctor looked at his stats on the monitor by the bed. “Yeah, your pulse ox looks good.” He turned off the oxygen and helped Steve take it off. 

“Steve, you’re awake!” his mother’s voice called from the door. He looked up to see his parents, Lydia and Phil Harrington. 

“Oh, good, Mr. & Mrs. Harrington. I was just about to update Steve on his condition.”

Lydia went straight to her son’s bedside, edging Joyce out of the way. “Thank you, Jul . . .”

“Joyce,” Steve whispered.

“Joyce, I can take it from here.”

Joyce graciously nodded and stepped aside. “Come on, gang, let’s go for a walk.” She began to usher the others out of the room. 

Will set a bar of chocolate on Steve’s bed. “I got this for you. It helps with the aftermath. Trust me,” he explained cryptically.

“Thank you.”

“We made this for you.” El placed an oversized card on his bed. Steve could tell the group had added a lot to it. 

“Thank you,” he repeated, blinking back tears.

They all filtered out of the room, wishing him well. Dustin stayed, though. He stood at the foot of the bed, daring the Harringtons and the doctor to kick him out. The doctor gave Steve a look. “He can stay,” Steve assured. Dustin visibly relaxed.

“How’s our son?” Phil asked.

“Doing better. I want to check his blood work again. We’ll know more after that. His levels seem to be stabilizing, though. Last blood draw was much better than the first.”

“Ms. Byers said something about a medical coma?” Steve spoke up.

“Honey, you were so sick.” His mother gently took his hand in hers, which was an experience Steve hadn’t had in years.

“Yes,” the doctor began. “We haven’t been able to find the source of the infection, but your blood work was all out of whack, like you’d been fighting off an extreme case of the flu or something like that. You were on the verge of multi-system organ failure. Good thing your friends called for help when they did.”

“Did you find evidence of anything else?” his father asked, not so smoothly.

“They think you’re on drugs,” Dustin mouthed to him. He made a small snorting motion on his hand, and Steve was upset that he knew what that motion was.

“Nope,” the doctor replied. “We don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, it seems to be moving out of your system now. I’d like to keep you a few more days, though, to rebuild your strength.”

“We’ll stay as long as we need to,” his mother assured.

“I can run home and get your favorite games,” Dustin spoke up.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Phil gave him a pointed look.

“Dustin Henderson.”

“Who?”

“The kid he saved.” Dustin pointed at Steve.

“The idiot who went out on the roof,” Phil replied.

“Phil!” Lydia scolded.

Steve felt like crap, but he wasn’t about to let his dad talk to Dustin like that. “Dad! Dustin is my friend, and he was trying to save a cat.”

Dustin was unphased by Phil Harrington’s comment. He’d stared down scarier monsters. “Your son saved my life. He’s a hero. You should be proud.”

“We are proud.” His mother squeezed his arm, and Steve could tell she meant it.

“Dustin, come here.” Steve motioned for his friend to come closer. Dustin readily complied. “Go and update the others. I need a minute, okay?” 

“Okay, but I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Dustin gave them all a last look before stepping out.

“I’ll get the nurse to come draw some blood. Good to have you back, Mr. Harrington.” The doctor patted Steve’s shoulder and left the room.

Now it was just Steve and his parents. For a second, he thought things wouldn’t be awkward. They’d gotten off to a decent start, but the train quickly jumped the tracks and veered off course. “So, what really happened at Mooregrove Manor?” his father asked, not coming any closer to the bed. “I’ve been to the house, and it’s wrecked. I’ve been to our house, and it’s wrecked, but not as badly. Thanks for not putting a gash in our wall.”

“Phil!” Lydia hissed. She took Steve’s hand in hers. “Our son is alive. Isn’t that enough for now?”

“And who were all those people in your room?” Phil pressed on.

“My friends,” Steve replied.

“I’ve never met any of them.”

“Phil, you know Nancy.”

“Correction, I recognize your ex-girlfriend. Who seems to be here with her current boyfriend?”

Steve closed his eyes. He could remember being in the Rose Room with Lillian. He could remember her advice that he should tell his parents how he felt about their absence from his life. Now was probably not the time, but he couldn’t fight it anymore. “Because you’re never around me to know,” he fired back.

“Steve,” his mother started, but he talked over her.

“You haven’t been around for years, since I turned sixteen and got my license. I know I’m an adult now, but I still need my parents. I miss how we used to be, the things we used to do. And I’m sorry I ruined your trip to the Caymans.”

“No, honey, we’re where we need to be,” his mother hurried to assure.

“I don’t want to see you a few times a year. I don’t want a phone call every now and then. When you called the other day, you assumed everything was fine, but it wasn’t. I really needed my mom. I needed both of you. I needed my parents.” Steve stopped and took a breath. Maybe he should have kept that oxygen in after all. “I want you - I need you to be around more.”

Lydia gave Phil a pleading look, and he finally approached the bed. He came to Steve’s other side and rested his hand gently on his son’s shoulder. “We are where we need to be,” his father agreed. He wanted to say more, but that was enough for now.

Steve wanted to say more, too, but there was a new visitor standing in his doorway, and he didn’t recognize this older gentleman at all. “Am I interrupting something?” the man asked.

His father knew this man. “Mr. Mooregrove, not at all.” He hurried to the door to welcome the man into the room. “Please, come in.”

The impeccably dressed older man made his way slowly to the bed. “Steve, this is Mr. Pete Mooregrove,” his father spoke with emphasis.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Steve.” The older man smiled at him.

Steve felt sick to his stomach. “I’m so sorry about your house.”

Mr. Mooregrove looked at the Harringtons. “I was hoping to speak with Steve for a moment, if that’s all right?”

“Oh, of course.” Phil took Lydia by the shoulders and lead her away from the bed. “Take all the time you need.”

“We’ll be in the waiting room,” his mother hurried to add as Phil pulled her out of the room.

Steve had just asked them to stay, and here they were gone again. This was going to be a work in progress. He sighed and looked at Mr. Mooregrove, only imaging what this man wanted to talk to him about. 

“Mind if I have a seat?” Pete pointed to the empty chair. Steve nodded his head, and Pete lowered himself slowly into the chair. “Bones don’t work as well as they used to.” He leaned back and regarded the patient for a moment. Steve was mentally preparing himself for the hammer that was about to fall. 

Pete Mooregrove took a breath and started. “I don’t know what really happened at Moorergrove Manor.” He held up his hand before Steve could speak. “And I don’t need to know. The damage is reparable. The antiques are replaceable. Insurance will cover the ceiling from the tree branch, the estate will take care of the rest. So on and so forth.” Pete leaned in closer and took another breath. “But I know how the house feels now, and it feels lighter. It feels free. My mother only took us there a handful of times, me and my brother. The house made her terribly sad. And I never saw anything, but I felt something, a presence. I always wanted to do something more with that house, give it a larger role in the community, but I didn’t feel like I could. It didn’t feel like my house. It felt like someone else’s. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Steve slowly nodded. “I thought you might,” Pete replied. “In her later years, my mother talked about Lillian constantly, wondering if she’d ever found peace, praying that she had. I never told her how the house made me feel. It wouldn’t have helped. But today, I walked in that house and for the first time, I smiled. And I know my mother is smiling, too, because Lillian is with her. I think I have you to thank for that.”

Steve took a shuddery breath, not sure what to say. Fortunately, Pete pressed on. “We’ll fix it all up and figure out a new purpose for Mooregrove Manor. The museum is fine, but there’s a lot of space there. Maybe it can be a writer’s retreat, or a space for research, or a home for sick children and their families? I don’t know, but the possibilities are endless.” The old man’s eyes were sparkling. “Thank you, Steve Harrington.” He extended his hand, and Steve slowly took it. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve replied, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Grandpa!” a small voice cried and they both looked up. A small, blond headed girl was tottering into the room.

“I’m sorry, Papa, I couldn’t catch her in time.” The girl’s mother hurried into the room after the toddler.

“It’s all right.” Pete Mooregrove held out his arms, and the girl rushed to him. With a grunt, he pulled her up onto his lap. “The family’s in for the holiday,” he explained to Steve. “This is my daughter-in-law Heather.” Steve waved at her, and the woman waved back. “And this is my granddaughter Lillian.” Pete gave the girl a hug, and Steve’s breath caught in his throat. “Lillian, can you say hello to Steve?”

The little girl gave him a small wave. “Hello, Steve.”

“Hello,” he replied, his voice wavering.

“This is the man who saved your family’s home,” Pete told her. “Can you say thank you?”

“Thank you,” the girl spoke around the thumb in her mouth.

“You’re welcome,” Steve managed to express around the lump in his throat.

Back in the waiting room, everyone was antsy. “I’m pretty sure that was Mr. Mooregrove,” Max spoke up. “I remember his picture from the library.”

“Which one, Sam or Pete?” Mike asked.

“Pete, I think.”

“What do you think he wants?” Dustin inquired.

“Retribution,” Lucas replied, and Max smacked his arm.

Will looked at his mom. “Do you think we’ll go to jail?”

She pulled him close to her side. “I don’t think so.”

“Whatever happened to the cop car?” Jonathan asked, his voice low.

“What cop car?” Joyce replied. Her eyes told him never to ask about that again.

“It’s nice his parents came,” El told Nancy.

Nancy was more surprised than anyone to see the Harringtons there, and she was the only one who’d met them. “Yes, it is,” she agreed.

The Harringtons were sitting on the other end of the room away from them. Lydia was at least looking their way and trying to seem friendly. She waved at Nancy, who waved back. Jonathan quickly removed his hand from her leg. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I just feel weird with his parents sitting there.”

Phil Harrington’s mobile phone rang, and he answered it. “Check out that phone,” Robin commented.

“They’re so money, they don’t even know,” Lucas surmised.

“Oh, they know,” Robin countered.

The nearest, passing nurse told Mr. Harrington he had to take his mobile phone outside. He regarded them all as he passed.

As Phil was on his way out, another, familiar figure was on her way in. “You have got to be kidding me,” Dustin spoke. He was on his feet in an instant. He met Madame Z at the entrance of the waiting room. She was decked out from head to toe in her regalia. A college age student behind her was lugging a massive video camera.

“You can’t be here,” Dustin told her. His friends were hot on his heels.

“Good to see you, too,” she quipped.

“Madame Z, someone spring you from the pokey?” Mike asked.

“Har har. I forgot how funny you all are.”

“What are you doing here?” Nancy wanted to know.

“Conducting my post possession interview, which was in the contract you signed. If you’ll point us in Steve’s direction, we’ll get started.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Robin assured.

Madame Z regarded her with an icy stare. “Yes, it is, dearie, because you signed that contract.”

“The contract also stated, Madame, that the exorcism would be conducted on a specified date at a specified time,” Robin replied. “I read the fine print.”

“And where were you at the specified time and date?” Lucas asked.

Madame Z faltered a little. “I told him to wait.” She pointed a finger at Dustin.

“If I had waited, Steve would be dead by now,” Dustin defended.

“You voided your own contract,” Robin concluded.

“Mr. Mooregrove is in Steve’s room right now. Maybe you’d like to talk to him?” Nancy proposed. “Or, let me introduce you to Steve’s father, he’s the one outside in the three-piece suit and the mobile phone.”

Madame Z looked out into the entry way. She didn’t like the site of that at all. “At least let me talk to Steve,” she regrouped. “No camera. I just want to tell him he may be more receptive to spirits now. He had such an intense experience; he’s bound to have some natural, untapped ability. Maybe he’d like to be a medium? I offer a training program.”

“For the low fee of $19.99 a month,” Robin commented.

Dustin stepped forward. “You see Steve over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” Madame Z sneered back.

They all stepped up to Dustin’s side, and Madame Z was aware of the number of them compared to her and her camera man. “I hate you. I hate all of you, and I hate this hick town.” She turned to leave. “Come on, Trevor.”

“Do I still get paid for today?” the cameraman asked.

“You’ll get your college credit,” she assured him, which wasn’t exactly what he wanted to know.

They all bid her adieu with waves and certain gestures, but Mike broke away from the group and went after her. “I’ll be back,” he assured El. He caught up with Madame Z at her beat up car, which she’d parked in a handicap spot. Trevor was stashing the camera in the trunk.

“What do you want?” she asked.

Mike removed the blue hair tie from his wrist. It had once belonged to Chief Hopper’s daughter, and he’d worn it every day since she’d died from cancer. After he adopted El, he’d given it to her. Now, Mike and El traded it during visits, as a constant reminder of their feelings for one another. “I need to know if the person connected to this hair tie is dead.” Mike held it out to her carefully.

“Why would I help you?” 

“I’ll give you five dollars.”

“Ten.”

“Eight.”

She regarded him for a moment. “Fine.”

Mike fished the money out of his pockets and handed it over with the hair tie. Madame Z held the tie in the palm of her hand and stared down at it.

“Aren’t you going to do your dirt thing?” Mike asked.

“Do you think I drive around with jars of dirt in my trunk?”

“I don’t know.”

Madame Z sighed and handed the tie back. “I don’t need them. This person is alive. The first person isn’t, whoever wore that bow originally. She’s gone, but the other person, they’re alive.”

“How do you know?” Mike looked the small tie over, like the answer was printed somewhere on it.

“You pay me eight dollars; you get an eight-dollar answer.” Madame Z slammed the lid to her trunk and walked around the car. “Get in, Trevor.”

Mike stepped back on the curb as he watched them drive away. He slipped the hair tie back on his wrist. It wasn’t enough to tell El at this point, and he wasn’t even sure he trusted Madame Z’s response, but it was a start.

Back in the waiting room, Phil Harrington had rejoined his wife. Lydia was watching the group, watching their dynamic. “Is Mr. Mooregrove still in with him?” Phil asked as he sat down.

“As far as I know,” Lydia replied, continuing to watch the group.

“This could be bad. I should call our lawyer.”

“Phil,” she began. “I’ve been watching these kids. I’ve been watching all of them. They really care about Steve. They haven’t left his side. I think they just defended him against some odd lady in a Mumu with a video camera.”

“What?”

“They’re like his family.”

“We’re his family, Lydia.”

She shook her head. “We know nothing about our son, about his life.”

Phil sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I have to work.”

“Yes, but we both know you take on extra hours when you don’t need to. You take trips you don’t have to, and I don’t have to tag along.” She leaned back in her chair. “We need to be home more. We need to try, for Steve’s sake. For our sake.”

Phil leaned back with her, and he didn’t remove her hand when she rested it on his arm. “Remember why we started traveling so much in the first place?” Lydia spoke. “We couldn’t stand being in that house together. Jet setting was easier than divorce.”

“Are you ready to face that again?” Phil looked at his wife.

“I think we have to.”

“You might not like the answer,” he told her.

She looked at him, her eyes open and honest. “It’s worth trying, right?”

His phone rang again, and she looked away. To her surprise, he silenced his phone and put his hand softly on top of hers. “We can try.”

That evening, most of the gang had gone home. The hospital had finally put their foot down on the number of people allowed in Steve’s room, which was fine. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and everyone needed to get home anyhow. Steve was allowed two visitors at a time, and one overnight guest. He currently had Robin and Dustin in his room, and he knew the curly haired boy would be spending the night. Steve’s parents would be back in the morning. A part of him missed them, but another part was glad he had the night to chew on what he might tell them tomorrow.

“Seriously, you guys don’t have to stay,” Steve said for the umpteenth time. He felt a little guilty about keeping them from their families during a holiday. “I’m fine.”

“My family’s not big on Thanksgiving,” Robin assured him. “I’m only missing cold pizza.”

“And you are getting me out of spending time with my Aunt Carol,” Dustin spoke around the spoonful of chocolate pudding in his mouth. “I should be thanking you.”

“I’ll try to get possessed and fall through a glass ceiling every holiday, just for you.”

“That would be appreciated.” Dustin smiled. He set the empty pudding cup down on Steve’s bedside tray.

“Did you enjoy my pudding cup?” 

Dustin suddenly realized what he’d done. And yeah, the nurse had totally brought that in with Steve’s dinner. He hadn’t even asked if he could have it. “Oh man, I am so sorry. I’ve been stress eating like crazy.”

“Dustin, it’s okay. I didn’t want it anyhow.” And it was true. Steve was finally starting to feel like he’d eaten enough chocolate for a while.

Robin laughed beside them. “You all are my favorite dinguses. You know that, right?”

Steve looked at her and smiled. “Thanks.” He held out his hand, and she took it. “No romantic, holiday plans with Kiki?”

“Please, that’s so over with.”

“What happened?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “She said I was spending too much time with my friends.”

Dustin pointed at himself. “Us?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Robin assured him. “If you can’t hang with my group, you can’t be in my life.”

Steve squeezed her hand. Her break up made him remember Dustin’s, though, and how callous he’d been about it. He quickly turned to look at the boy. “Dustin, I am so sorry about Suzie. I was a jerk when you told me, and I know you loved her, and I’m really, really sorry.”

Dustin reached out and touched Steve’s arm. “Hey, you were possessed. You get a pass.”

Robin sighed. “Here we are, single again. My girlfriend was insecure.”

“Religious differences, and distance, and Todd,” Dustin rambled off.

Steve nodded. “And mine was dead. So, I win.”

They all laughed. “You do, you totally win,” Robin agreed.

“Such an unfair advantage,” Dustin added.

They continued to laugh, but Steve’s laughter suddenly turned to tears. They weren’t quiet tears, either. They were loud sobs, and his breath started to catch in his throat. His chest felt tight. He didn’t know where this sudden sadness had come from. Maybe it was all crashing down on him now? He’d never processed that monsters were real, and now ghosts were real. He’d never really thought about what it’d meant to lose Barbara, to lose Billy. He’d never thought about all the other people in Hawkins who had died, about the loss of Chief Hopper. It was suddenly too much, and he found himself caring about them all at once.

And then there had been Lillian, sweet Lillian whom he loved. He had loved her, and he had lost her, and he could feel that loss like a sucking hole in his chest.   
Steve tried to take a breath, but he was crying too hard. “What do we do?!” Dustin asked, his voice panicked. He looked at the monitor and could see Steve’s heart rate was increasing. “Do I get the nurse?!”

Robin made a quick decision. She slipped off her shoes and climbed up carefully on the bed. Steve moved his arm, and she curled up next to his side, wrapping her arms around him. “What are you doing?” Steve managed to ask.

“My mom used to do this for me when I was younger.” She held on to him a little tighter.

“I’m fine,” Steve attempted to assure around his choking sobs.

“You’re not fine.”

Dustin slipped off his own shoes and clambered up onto the bed on the other side. He was less coordinated about it, and he kind of fell on Steve.

“Ow!”

“Sorry,” Dustin winced. He moved a little slower and maneuvered himself against his friend’s other side.

“You’re terrible at this,” Steve told him.

“Shut up,” Robin instructed. “We’re comforting you.”

Steve finally managed to take a breath. He lay there for a moment, just listening to them breathe, feeling the weight of them around him. It was almost like they were holding him together. “I’m not okay,” he spoke at last.

“No one expects you to be,” Robin replied.

Steve took in another, deep breath. His heart rate was finally starting to calm down. “And you all are really good at this,” he amended.

“We’re your friends,” Robin assured.

“We’ve got your back,” Dustin added.

Steve rested his hand on the top of Dustin’s head. The curly haired boy snuggled a little closer, and then he farted. 

“Dustin!” Robin gagged.

“Gross, man,” Steve commented.

“I’ve been stress eating!” Dustin defended.

They started to laugh again, and this time there were no tears.


	29. “To Everything There Is a Season”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

December 1985 – May 1986

“To Everything There Is a Season”

December 1985

“Article thirty-two,” Joyce spoke, with a slight hint of frustration in her voice. “No member of the group shall, under any circumstances, design, fabricate, or sell any merchandise pertaining to the Upside Down, Demogorgons, Demodogs, or Mind Flayers.” She paused and looked around the room. “Are we satisfied now?”

“Can we read it again?” Dustin asked, and they all groaned.

Joyce was through reading the long document. “You know what, I’m going to leave it right here for everyone to read. We’ll take a five-minute recess, and then we’re signing this.”

“Yes, chip break!” Lucas plunged his hand into the almost empty chip bowl. “Hey, we’re running low.”

Steve sighed and got up from the couch. “You all are eating me out of house and home.”

“You wanted to host,” Mike pointed out.

Steve walked into the kitchen and pulled another bag of chips from the cabinet. “Because the Byers are staying here, and I was being considerate.” He emphasized that last word as he dumped the chips into the bowl. “You all could have pitched in with snacks.”

Dustin paused, chip halfway to his mouth. “Should we add that to our constitution, under meetings?”

“No!” more than one person responded.

“We can figure snacks out as we go,” Nancy insisted.

“Five minutes, then we’re signing this,” Joyce repeated.

Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, and Max grouped up and considered the document they’d all been drafting and discussing for the last three hours. The others had a dozen other topics to discuss. Steve looked down at the coffee table and noticed all the glasses not on coasters, which he had covered at the beginning of the meeting. He sighed in frustration and picked up the wayward glasses and placed coasters under them. “Coasters, people. Were you raised in barns?”

Steve noticed Dustin was about to absentmindedly wipe his cheesy fingers on the couch. “Dustin, I swear, if you put your orange, cheesy fingers on the furniture, I will end you.” The boy sheepishly drew back his fingers and licked them instead.

“Is it just me, or has Steve gotten even lamer?” Lucas whispered to them.

“I think he was stuck in the nineteenth century a little too long,” Mike remarked.

“I can hear you, dipshits,” Steve replied.

Will sneezed and his elbow knocked his glass off the table. El managed to catch it with her powers. “Sorry,” Will commented as he plucked the floating glass from the air. “Thanks, El.”

“No problem,” she assured.

Steve forced himself to walk away before he killed any of them. Ever since the incidents at Mooregrove Manor, he’d worked hard to keep his family’s home in order, even his bedroom. He wasn’t working now, so he’d channeled his energy into home improvement. His parents appreciated it, and they were all working hard to repair their relationship. Mr. & Mrs. Harrington weren’t home right then, but Steve knew where they were, and when they’d be back, which was a huge improvement. They’d even gone ice skating that winter and made hot chocolate. When the Byers decided to come back to Hawkins for Christmas, Steve’s parents floored him and offered their guest rooms to the family. It had been the best holiday Steve could remember in a long time.

Steve stood in the entryway between the kitchen and living room and watched the group. He loved them, spilled drinks, cheesy fingers, snide comments, and all. These were his people. Joyce joined him. “It was really nice of your parents to let us stay here.”

“Yeah, well, we’re trying this new thing where we’re better people.”

Joyce rested her hand on Steve’s arm and squeezed. “You’re a good person, Steve. You’ve always been a good person; you just didn’t know it.”

“Thank you.”

Jonathan got up from the couch and walked over to them. “I think we’re ready to sign it.” He noted the fond expression on his mother’s face. “What?”

Joyce shrugged. “Watching you, all of you.” She took a breath. “We’re moving back.”

“What?!” Jonathan and Steve spoke at once.

She motioned for them to be quieter. “Don’t get too excited. We still have a six-month lease to see out, and a school year to finish. But Hawkins is our home. It’s always been our home.” She patted Jonathan on the cheek. “We’ll talk about it more later. Right now, we have a constitution to sign.”

Joyce resumed her spot on the couch. “We ready to do this?” They all nodded. The multi-page document was laid out before them. It had thirty-two articles that covered everything from not keeping secrets from one another, to no more seances, to the process for bringing new people into the fold, and beyond. Joyce gave them all one more moment to speak. When no one did, she uncapped her pen and signed her name on the last page. She passed the document and pen to her left where Nancy was poised and ready.

“This is a historic moment,” Dustin spoke. “Did anyone bring a camera?”

“Uh, there’s a polaroid around here somewhere.” Steve searched the shelves as the document made the rounds. “Found it!” He walked back to the group. “All right, everyone bunch up.”

“No, you have to be in the photo, Steve,” Dustin insisted.

“Yeah,” Will agreed.

“Who’s going to take the picture, then?”

“I think I can do this,” El proposed. Steve let the camera go, and she kept it in the air. He ran to the back of the couch, and they all scooted close. “Everyone say cheese.” El managed to push the button and the flash went off.

Mike took the camera from the air and pulled the picture out. “Let’s see how good your picture taking skills are.” He placed the photo on the table to develop.

“It will be good,” she assured him. He leaned over and kissed her.

“It’s your turn, Steve,” Jonathan spoke.

Steve looked over to see Jonathan offering him the document and pen. He took them both and paused just a second before signing. He really was a part of this crazy group, and he couldn’t be happier about it.

January 1986

The heat in the car was on high, but Steve still felt cold. Robin reached over and placed her hand on his leg. “We can go up there with you,” she offered.

“Yeah, we can go together,” Dustin agreed. He leaned over the back seat.

Steve looked out the window and up the hill. Lillian’s tomb was near the top. He shook his head. “No, I want to go alone at first. Give me fifteen minutes, and then come up. Okay?”

“Okay,” Robin replied.

“Dustin, hand me those flowers and book, please.” Steve reached back as Dustin handed him the items.

Steve held them close, took a breath, and stepped out of the car. The temperature was cold, but at least the wind wasn’t blowing. Still, Steve hunched over as he made his way up the hill. The icy grass crunched beneath his feet. He should have done this weeks ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to come until now.

His feet stopped at the edge of the tomb, and he slowly looked up. Steve’s breath caught in his throat. The tomb was made from beautiful, white marble with flowers and birds carved into it. He hadn’t expected it to be so pretty. It looked like Lillian. Steve stood in silence for a moment, just appreciating the serenity of the scene before him.

“I, uh, brought you these. It’s hard to find flowers in the winter, but I read a book and learned that Algerian Iris, Hellebore, and Winter Jasmine all grow in the winter. And then it was difficult to find a florist that stocked those, but, uh, I managed.” Steve placed the bouquet gently against her tomb. There were wreaths on either side, probably placed by her family. They looked new and festive.

Steve pulled a familiar book from his back pocket. It was wrapped in a Ziploc bag. “I also brought you a new copy of Tennyson’s poems. Some crazy psychic still has your other one. Sorry. It’s a long story.” He tucked the book inside a small crevice in the marble. “I wish I could tell it to you, or I wish you were around to hear it.”

He took a breath and pulled his coat a little tighter around him. “I miss you, every day.” And it was true. Lillian was the first person he thought about when he woke up, and the last person he thought about before he went to sleep. Sometimes, he’d read a line in a book or see something funny, and his first thought was to find her and share it with her, but then reality would set in. Steve was glad Lillian was at peace, and he understood why things were as they were, but that didn’t lessen the pain. Joyce had assured him it would get better with time.

Steve pulled a folded piece of paper from inside his coat. His hands were shaking, but not from the cold, from nerves. “There are a million things I want to say to you, but, uh, I wrote you this poem. It’s not everything, but it’s a start.” He slowly unfolded the paper and took a breath. “Don’t laugh, okay?” He took another breath.

“She walked these halls  
She lived in these rooms  
She danced through the night.  
She held my heart in the palm of her hands,  
And from death, she brought me life.

A princess who could save herself  
A knight in need of guidance  
We found each other between those walls  
We found each other despite it all.

The story was short and over too soon  
I wish it had been forever.  
But in those weeks, I found a love  
I’ll take with me wherever.

The beginning was the end  
And the end was the beginning  
And somewhere in the middle was the truth.

She walked these halls  
She lived in these rooms  
She danced through the night.  
She held my heart in the palm of her hands,  
And from death, she brought me life.”

Steve kissed the poem and tucked it gently into the crevice with the book. “Sorry I’m no Alfred Lord Tennyson, but I hope you liked it.” He put his hands in his pockets and breathed in and out. Now that he’d been here, now that he’d seen Lillian’s final resting place, a part of him felt lighter.

The crunch of the grass alerted him that he was no longer alone. He smiled as Robin and Dustin joined him, one on either side. “Hi, Lillian,” Robin spoke as she set her flowers down.

“Hey, Lillian,” Dustin added. He placed his flowers next to Steve’s. “This is a really pretty marker.”

“She was a really beautiful person, inside and out,” Steve commented.

Robin wrapped her arm around her friend. “I know she was.” Steve looked at her with a question in his eyes. “She loved you.” Robin touched his chest with her other hand. “And what’s in here is beautiful beyond words.” Steve tried to inch away, but she wouldn’t let him. “And then there’s this mess.” She moved her hand up and ran it through his hair.

“Hey, I worked hard on this.”

“I’m sure Lillian appreciates it,” Dustin assured.

Steve shook his head. He took Robin’s hand in his. He reached out with his other hand and pulled Dustin closer. “What are you doing?” the boy asked.

“We’re having a tender moment, get over here.” Steve put his arm around Dustin’s shoulder.

“Okay.”

The three of them stood like that for a magical, peaceful minute, and Steve could feel the hole in his chest close just a little bit more. He could also feel Dustin shifting beside him. “How long is this moment going to last, because my toes are getting numb?”

March 1986

Steve hefted another crate of books onto one of the tables outside the library. They were helping Bernice and the other volunteers set up the annual book sale, which was the second to last weekend in March this year due to the Easter holiday. “Only three more crates to go,” he commented as he stretched his back. Those crates were heavy. Maybe he should get back into weightlifting?

Bernice patted him on the arm. “It’s so good of you to help. I knew the kids had signed up, but I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

It had been a minute since he’d seen the older woman. He used to see Bernice every day. “How are you doing, Bernice?”

“I stay busy with the library and the church. The renovations at Mooregrove Manor will be done in May, and I’ll get my docent job back.”

“Oh, that’s great to hear.” Steve did feel guilty that he’d gotten everyone furloughed for a while.

“It won’t be exactly the same, the Mooregrove family has some changes in mind, but a part of the house will still be a museum, and we’ll get to share Lillian’s story now.” Bernice sighed and rearranged some books on the table. “When I first found out what had happened on your watch, I was very upset. A part of me wanted to go down to that hospital and smother you with a pillow.”

“Jesus,” Steve mumbled and purposefully moved to the other side of the table.

“But I prayed on it, and I’m glad you’re all right, I really am. You’re a bright young man with a wonderful future.” Bernice reached across the table and placed her hand on his arm. He tried not to flinch.

“Thank you.”

“And I’m excited about what’s next for Mooregrove Manor. Change keeps you young, remember that.”

“I will,” Steve assured her.

Bernice looked at Mike and the others as they sorted books. “It’s so good to see these young people here. Gives me hope for the future.” She smiled at Steve, and he smiled in return. “If you excuse me, I need to go and help Eunice. She’s blind as a bat.” Bernice moved on down the row to assist her friend.

Steve continued to watch as Max, Lucas, and Mike organized books nearby. “Wait, are you guys sorting by first name of author?” Max held up a book and looked at her counterparts.

“Yeah, that’s what you said,” Lucas commented.

Max rolled her eyes. “No, I said last name and then first name. Why would it be the other way?”

“I thought you knew something we didn’t.”

“I know you all’re idiots.” Max huffed and began to reorder the books on their table.

“Sorry,” Mike remarked.

“Steve, can you find something else for them to do?” she pleaded.

“Come on guys, there are three more crates inside.” Steve motioned for Mike and Lucas to follow.

They headed for the stairs, but Steve paused as he passed the cash register table where Robin and Dustin were located. They seemed to be engaged in a debate with a costumer. “You guys go on and grab a crate. I’ll be up in a second.”

“Yes, master,” Mike voiced in exasperation.

Steve rolled his eyes. They were good kids, even when they were super annoying. And it was nice of them to make good on the deal they’d made to help save his life.

“This book is $1; you’re really going to haggle on a dollar?” Robin asked the costumer.

“It’s a used book,” the customer pointed out.

“You know this money is for educational programs, right? It’s for the kids.” She pointed at Dustin. “Kids like this who can’t read.”

Dustin looked quizzically at the book he was holding. “What are words?”

“Also, he’s like missing half his bones.”

Dustin dropped the book he was holding in a dramatic display. “It’s true.”

“You’re really going to haggle over money for kids like this?”

The customer huffed and handed over the money. “Fine.”

Steve shook his head with a laugh. He turned and headed up the library stairs. He was looking at the steps and not straight ahead, and he reached for the door handle at the same time as another patron. “Oh, sorry.” He looked up. He recognized this girl.

She recognized him, too. “Steve, Steve Harrington?”

“Uh, yeah.” Crap, he couldn’t remember her name.

“It’s Amber Whitkey. I was in your class at Hawkins High.”

“Yeah, of course.” And he did know that name, but unfortunately, he didn’t remember much about her.

“You probably don’t remember me. I wasn’t really in King Steve’s sphere.”

Steve scoffed. “There’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

She looked around. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping with the book sale.”

Amber was surprised. “That’s nice. I figured you’d be out of this town by now.”

Steve shook his head. “I kind of like it here.”

“Leaving is overrated. I moved away, but now I’m back.” Amber sighed, and it was clear there was a story to be told.

“Where did you go?”

“College in New Hampshire. It didn’t work out, lots of reasons. I came home to figure some things out.”

Steve leaned against the door. “I’m doing that, too. Taking some classes at the community college.” He’d started there in January, and he was liking it so far. The old Steve had felt like the local school was beneath him, and he’d applied to schools he knew he’d never get into. Steve had spent too much of his young life being obsessed with status.

“Do you like it?” Amber asked.

“Yeah, I do,” he replied truthfully, which was the first time he’d ever used “like” in reference to school.

“I’ll look into it.” Amber smiled, and he smiled back.

“I’d be happy to give you a tour,” he assured.

At that moment, Mike pushed on the other side of the door and Steve had to move. The kid was loaded down with books in his arms, almost to the point where he couldn’t see the stairs below. “What are you doing? There are crates for the books!” Steve began to unload some of the books from Mike’s arms.

“Someone said they were coming to help us,” Mike accused. Lucas was right behind him, and he was just as loaded down.

“Stop,” Steve instructed. He unloaded Luas’s top layer, too. “You all are going to fall down the stairs and break something.”

“Yes, mother,” Lucas remarked.

Steve ignored him. “Are there any more books in there?”

“Yeah, it’s a library," Mike retorted.

Steve fought the urge to throw him down the stairs. “I meant for the sale.”

“Yeah, one more crate,” Lucas replied.

Steve looked at Amber and smiled sheepishly. “I, uh, need to get back to work.”

“He’s a slave driver,” Mike told the girl.

“Ignore them, they’re strangers.” Amber laughed. Mike rolled his eyes and followed Lucas down the stairs.

“I’ll let you get back to your sale.” Amber stepped around Steve and his books. He remembered to hold the door open for her. “Thank you.” She turned around when she was halfway through. “My number is still the same in the phone book, in case you want to call.”

“Right, to schedule a campus tour.”

“Or anything else,” she threw out there before stepping inside.

Steve smiled and ran his hand through his hair. He watched Amber for a minute before stacking up the books he’d taken from Mike and Lucas. He stepped inside to grab the last crate. Lillian smiled down at him from her portrait by the circulation desk. “I don’t know, I might call her,” he told the portrait. Steve bit his bottom lip and looked after Amber again. “That’d be okay, right? Yeah, I might give her a call.” He gave the portrait a quick bow and a “m’lady” before grabbing the last crate and heading back outside.

April 1986

Steve tapped the tip of the baseball bat against his shoes. He walked dramatically out to the plate, pointing the bat into the distance to signal the home run he was about to hit. He paused to give the motion emphasis. “Yeah, that was old the first time, Steve,” Ted Wheeler called from the pitcher’s mound. “Just get over there so we can do this.”

It was the ninth inning, and Steve’s team was down by one point, but they could win this now. Dustin was on second, and he was the last up to bat. “Send me home, Big H!” Dustin shouted.

“Get ready to run, Little H!” Steve called back.

Dustin chuckled, endlessly pleased with their new nicknames. He’d come up with it after he’d discovered their last names both started with the same letter. Phil Harrington had even sprung for matching shirts for the game for the two of them. Lucas rolled his eyes as he regarded Dustin. “You all are super annoying.”

“I know. It’s great.”

“Go Steve, hit it out of the park!” Lydia Harrington shouted from the stands. She was sandwiched between Joyce Byers and Claudia Henderson, and Steve felt like he had three moms in the bleachers. His father wasn’t there, but he was calling home every other night. Steve knew things were strained between his parents, but he appreciated that they were both still trying. His mother had even enrolled in some courses at the community college, and it was kind of nice to drive her to school on the days when they both had classes.

Steve pointed the bat out to the back fence again, and everyone on the field save Dustin audibly groaned. “Smash it, Harrington, like it’s a Demodog,” Jonathan called from the dugout. The community baseball game was always held over spring break, and this year Hawkins’ schools and Evansville city schools just happened to have the same spring break. No one objected when the Byers wanted to join in. They were still a part of the community.

“Smash it good,” Will echoed.

“What’s a Demodog?” Lydia asked.

Joyce gave a nervous laugh. “Some code they made up.”

Lydia nodded. That answer was good enough for her. “Oh, I heard you all were moving back.”

“That’s the plan.” Joyce replied.

“I suppose you’re looking for a place to live?” Lydia pressed.

“Yeah, our old house is occupied, not that I’d want to live there again anyhow.”

“Phil manages rental properties. He really doesn’t have time for it, and I know he’s looking for a well-organized person to manage some of them for him. You were a manager, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Joyce had been manager of Melvald’s General Store. She didn’t need to tell Lydia that had been when the store was closing and everyone else had already left.

“And you all can live in one of the houses,” Lydia continued. “We can talk about it later.”

“Thank you.” Joyce smiled. She had never expected this friendship with Lydia Harrington, but the two of them had shared very meaningful conversations over their Christmas visit. In the end, they’d both been looking for a friend.

“I think it’s important ours kids stay connected,” Lydia spoke. “What they have is special.”

“Yes, it is,” Claudia agreed. “Hit the damn ball, Steve! Don’t leave my son hanging!” she screamed after he missed the first pitch.

“Two more to go,” Ted remarked.

Steve tightened his grip on the bat. “Not on your life, Mr. Wheeler,” he replied. “Little H is counting on me,” he said softer to himself.

“Go team,” Max voiced with something less than enthusiasm.

“Which team?” Eleven was confused. She had been confused this whole time. “Our friends are on both teams.”

Max sagged back against the bleacher behind her. “Yeah, this is dumb. Sports are dumb, and they won’t let us girls play.”

“We should start our own sport,” El suggested.

“Totally,” Max agreed. “You want some more nachos?”

“Yes, and some more of that pink stuff that looks like a cloud.”

“Cotton candy, yes. We need more cotton candy.” Max stood and helped El up. Both girls headed off for the concession stand. “We can discuss our new sport over junk food. That’s how all great ideas start.”

“Totally,” El repeated with a laugh.

Ted Wheeler threw the second pitch, and Steve swung with all his might. The bat made contact with the ball and it was soaring through the air. It was going, going, and then it was gone, right over the back fence. “Damnit!” Ted Wheeler voiced and threw his hat on the dirt.

Dustin screamed. “Ow.” Lucas rubbed at his ear as Dustin whooped. The curly haired boy threw his hands in the air in victory as he rounded the bases. Steve was right behind him. When the older boy returned to home plate, he picked Dustin up and spun him around. “We did it, brother!” Dustin cheered. The rest of the team was coming out to join their celebration. Life didn’t get any better than this moment.

May 1986

“What grade did you get on your story?” Steve asked Robin as they walked across campus. They were both enrolled in the same literature class this term.

“An A,” she replied.

“Yeah, but did you get an A+ and a comment that says, and I quote, ‘This is the most powerful story I’ve read in a long time. You took me on a journey,’ end quote.” Steve held the paper up for her to see.

Robin rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. She’d let him have this moment. “No, I did not.”

Steve took in a deep breath. “I’m hot shit. The king is back!” he decreed.

Okay, his moment was over. “How’s algebra going? Is Dustin still tutoring you? “she asked.

Steve took the point. “Yes, he is, thank you very much, and I have a solid B, which is like the highest grade I’ve ever had in a math class.”

Robin pointed to his paper. “You gonna hang that on the fridge?”

He looked down at the paper and his expression was thoughtful. “I don’t know. I might take it and share it with Lillian first.”

Robin nodded. “Do you and that Amber girl have a date this weekend?”

“On Saturday, yeah.” They’d been on a few dates, and it was going good so far.

“Coffee and pancakes that morning?”

“You know it.”

They’d reached the end of the campus. A small park with old playground equipment was across the street. Robin always preferred to park her motorbike down here at this end of the school. Steve looked up at the park. There were a few, young kids over there with their moms. The oldest boy had to be about eight, and Steve had seen him there before. He always sported the same, red shirt and high waisted pants turned up at the cuff. The boy waved at Steve, and he waved in return.

Robin looked over at the park. “Who are you waving at?”

“Some kid.”

“Aw, are you sad your kids are growing up?” She pinched his cheek.

“Stop it.”

“Does Amber know how many children you’re friends with?”

“I didn’t want to spring the family on her just yet,” Steve replied.

“Good luck, Romeo. See you on Saturday morning.” Robin checked for passing cars and headed across the street to her bike.

“See ya’.” Steve took another breath and looked at his story. His heart soared all over again. He never thought he’d be good at school. He never thought he’d be good at anything worthwhile. Steve tucked the papers protectively into his satchel. He looked both ways, cars did have a bad habit of flying through there, and crossed the street. He didn’t feel like going home yet. He felt like taking a walk on that beautiful, sunny day.

Steve walked around the edge of the park, and the kid waved at him again. The boy was persistent today. Steve returned the wave for a second time. The boy turned and ran off to play. Steve stumbled a little and looked down. His shoelace was untied. He knelt to fix it, bracing his foot on a nearby rock. When he finished tying his shoe, he noticed the rock he’d had his foot on was a marker of some kind.

Steve removed his foot and took a step back. “Dedicated to the memory of our son, Percy Oliver Simmons, taken too soon from this world. He loved his town, his parents, and his friends. He loved this park, and he rode his bicycle to it every day. One day we will all reunite in the great beyond.” At the bottom of the marker was a faded picture encased in plastic. Steve leaned down. The picture was of a young boy and his Schwinn bike. It looked like the boy was wearing a red shirt and he looked like . . . Steve jerked his head up and looked around the park. The boy was no where to be seen. Maybe he’d gone home? Surely, he’d gone home. Steve took a panicked breath and looked back at the picture. It was faded and old. His mind was playing tricks on him. Percy Oliver was long gone, and the boy he’d seen had run on home. That’s what Steve told himself as he walked away.

-End of This Story-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this story and enjoying it! I hope to visit the Stranger Things verse again in the future. I have enjoyed writing this and sharing it with you all.


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